Curiouser and Curiouser, as Alice Once Said
by aramie.greyson
Summary: Book three in the 'Raising Harry' story arc. Covers Harry's second year at Hogwarts. See author's profile for full summary.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Shall we get this show on the road?

* * *

**Raising Harry, Part Two**  
_Book Three: La Vida Hogwarts_

**Year Two: Curioser and Curioser, as Alice Once Said**

**Chapter One: Hot and Cold**

Upon returning home and subsequently telling the tale of Quirrell and the Stone, Harry was sentenced to three weeks' worth of boredom. No friends were allowed over, no phone or floo calls, no flying or horseback riding. He wasn't even allowed to read during that time, except what was needed for his summer homework. On the upside, he did get all his homework done, as that was about the only thing he _was_ allowed to do, other than chores. He wondered if he even managed to beat Hermione in sheer length of their Potions' essay… He was pretty sure it didn't need to be three feet long, nor have referenced quotes or a bibliography… But hey, he was_ bored_.

The only respite from the seemingly never-ending drudge of tedium and monotony during those first three weeks of summer break – aside from his 4H and Scout meetings – came on June twenty-eighth. Though he had to stay behind with Remus, Sirius, and Cyrus, the former Marauders were a bit more lenient than his parents. They spent the day telling Harry stories of when he was a baby, living with James and Lily, and watching movies on Harry's television. The next day, Harry's little sister, Livia Anne was brought home. Once more, A.J. won the betting pool, though she had to split it with Remus, who had also laid his money on the twenty-eighth of June. Dave had given up asking about just _how_ A.J. knew and shook his head, handing the winnings out.

Midway through the month of July, Harry managed to secure the last two badges he needed to obtain the rank of First-Class Scout. The first one he tried for and received was for bird-watching, the second was for ropes, tying knots and whatnot. About three days after being awarded that level, Harry suddenly realized that, though she had promised to owl him, there hadn't been a single letter from Hermione all summer. He wondered if he had said or done something to make the witch mad at him. A.J. came up with the solution, though. "Why don't you write to her muggle address? Maybe she's havin' trouble findin' an owl, an' I _know_ you. You probably didn't give her your address, did you?"

Harry chuckled, "Nope… Didn't think she'd need it. Guess I really ought to write her, doncha think?"

"Well… _duh_. But you can do that later," A.J. flipped her long ponytail back over her shoulder. "Did you decide where you wanted to have your birthday party this year?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno… We went to Adventureland last year, but I wouldn't mind goin' back again this year."

A.J. grimaced, "I think I can do without throwing up on your dad again, thanks. What about the lake?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't think so. I was going to invite the kids from school – hell, most of my friends from around here don't talk to me all that much anymore."

A.J. got a funny look, "So, the Weasleys, then?" she asked a little _too_ nonchalantly.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and peered at her over his glasses, "Yeah… Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Hermione, too, if their folks all agree."

"What about goin' to the Beach, Ottumwa?"

"The water-park?"

A.J. nodded, "Yeah. What's the use in havin' a summer birthday if you don't take advantage of it?" A.J.'s birthday was in mid-January, and had complained in the past of getting mittens, coats, and ice-skates for presents.

"I've never been there, what's it like?"

"Well… It's pretty fun. They've got a wave-pool, two twisty waterslides, and one that's really steep and fast. They've also got this tunnel-slide that runs in and out of the building where the indoor pool is. The inside pool is just a normal swimming pool, but it's got three diving boards; a low one, a medium-high one, and one that's really high."

Harry snickered at the thought of his acrophobic friend voluntarily throwing herself off of a high-dive. "Sounds like it could be fun. Ain't there a really good Chinese-food place in Ottumwa, too?"

A.J. nodded, "Yeah, it's the… Golden somethin'-or-other. Mom an' I always end up eatin' there when she goes to the mall."

"So… Chinese and the water-park?" Harry asked.

A.J. grinned, "Sounds like fun. Can't wait to see everyone try an' use chopsticks." Harry laughed in agreement.

During the planning for Harry's birthday party, Harry discovered that he and Neville had the same birthday. When Harry learned this, he told his mom, who shortly became rather close friends with Neville's gran, Augusta Longbottom. The elderly witch seemed rather shocked that Neville had made _any_ friends at school, and Harry had to wonder just _what_ Neville had been telling her. In any case, the two arrived at an agreement, and it was okayed for Neville to join in the festivities. Dean was a little easier to get a hold of, for he'd given Harry his phone number before they left school, and his mom likewise agreed. Dumbledore took the initiative to craft portkeys for all the guests and made sure they arrived on time, attired appropriately for a day in the muggle world. Aurilia rented a bus for the day, as the guest-list had roughly twenty names on it, once she included the parents.

And so, on a bright and extremely hot afternoon – perfect, really, for wasting the day at a water-park – Harry and Neville, along with Ron, Percy, Fred, George, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, A.J., and Ron's little sister, Ginny, were all in swimming suits, sitting on several large innertubes in the wave-pool. Sirius and Remus were playing with Cyrus and Livia in the splash-pad area. Jim, Dave, and Jon Granger were trying to out-do each other on the high-dive inside. Albus, Molly, and Neville's gran were sitting at an umbrella-shaded table, drinking fruity slush, and discussing things of little importance. Cassiopeia, who was Seamus' mom, Aurilia, Julia, and Dean's mother, Sabrina, were taking pictures of everything when not chatting amongst themselves. Though Severus had been invited, the professor had replied that he would rather not attend. Albus had pointed out that Remus would be needing more Wolfsbane potion anyway, and Severus consented to join them for dinner. Hagrid sent his apologies with the headmaster, as he wouldn't be able to get away from his duties, and also sent a large package of treacle fudge.

Harry was currently clinging to the side of a float on which the Weasley twins were sitting. Percy was treading water nearby, and on the other side of the innertube was another upon which perched A.J., Hermione, and Ginny. "So, how long were you grounded?" Percy asked.

"Three of the longest weeks of my life," Harry replied.

"That's rough, mate," Fred and George replied.

"What about you guys?"

Percy chuckled, "Only a week. Mum had wanted to go for a full month for Ron and the twins, but we talked a bit. Managed to get her to back down."

"Yeah, Mum was so shocked to hear that…"

"…Perfect Prefect Percy…"

"…of all people…"

"…had _voluntarily_ broke school rules…"

"…that she actually _burned _dinner!"

From where Harry was clinging to the float, he couldn't tell which twin was talking. Percy laughed again and joined Harry in holding on to the innertube. "You should have seen Dad's face. The last time Mum burned dinner was the day she found out she was having Ginny."

A.J., who had been unabashedly eavesdropping on Harry's conversation, broke out laughing. She laughed hard enough that she fell off the girls' innertube and came up sputtering and coughing. Percy dove under the twins' tube and swam over to her. "You all right?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I can just imagine, though…" She grinned at Percy. "You've got really pretty eyes, you know that?" Percy blushed bright red, as did A.J. They both ducked under the water and swam back to their respective floats.

Luckily, neither of the twins spotted the encounter, they'd been distracted by a question shouted from where Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Ron were floating on their own innertubes. When Percy rejoined Harry near the twins, Harry shook his head at him. "Ya know, A.J.'s my best friend."

"I know."

"You hurt her, an' I'll make ya wish ya hadn't."

"I know," Percy smiled at Harry. "I won't, but I know."

Harry nodded, "Good to see we're on the same page."

The remainder of the afternoon eventually found everyone tired, slightly sunburned, and with red eyes from the chlorine in the water. Dinner was at the Golden Dragon, a Chinese buffet, and Severus met them there. Neville paled when he saw the potions master waiting near the door and tugged on Harry's arm. "Why's he here?"

Harry grinned, "'Cause I invited him, of course."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged, "He's really not all that bad if you talk to him, and he helped me out with a couple of things this year."

"Why do I think you don't mean potions?"

"'Cause it wasn't," Harry laughed. "Don't worry 'bout it, Nev. If he was gonna turn you into potions ingredients, he'd have done so at school – fewer witnesses that way."

The entire group of people took up the majority of the dining area. While everyone was getting seated, Severus handed a nondescript metal flagon to Remus. Harry made a mental note to ask what it contained when everyone else left, after they got home. The rest of dinner was highly amusing, to say the least. Aside from the Americans among them – and Remus and Sirius, as they'd had occasion to eat out with the Brewers before – not many of the guests had any idea what they were eating. Snape, though, not only knew what he was eating, he also could use chopsticks with a level of proficiency that startled Harry. Harry also noticed that though Sirius tended to stick with the deep-fried things like eggrolls and wontons, and Remus preferred the skewers of teriyaki chicken and fried rice, the potions professor had three bowls of egg-drop soup, followed by a large plate of lo-mein. Harry hadn't known one could eat the spaghetti-like noodles with chopsticks.

When everyone had eaten their fill – and after Molly had scolded Fred and George no fewer than ten times for 'dueling' – sword-style – with their chopsticks – the presents for Neville and Harry were passed out. Neville received numerous plant-related books and two magical houseplants. Harry got Neville one of them, a particular sub-species of Venus flytrap that was used in making antivenoms. Harry received several items of varying natures, including a couple of wizarding games he'd not heard of before – the boxes had been charmed to merely appear holographic to muggle eyes – and a Sneak-o-Scope from Ron.

As they were eating dessert, Harry heard Molly remark to Jim that she was glad that her husband couldn't come because of work. When Jim asked why that was, she merely gestured to the ice-cream machine and mentioned that Mr. Weasley had an obsession with muggle gadgetry and if he saw the soft-serve machine, he'd want to take it home with him. Jim snickered at the thought, and Harry, who was loading his plate with coconut macaroons, laughed, too.

Instead of going back to his own seat, next to Neville's, at the end of the long row of tables that had been pushed together, Harry paused at Professor Snape's seat. "Sir?"

"Yes, Brewer?"

"I never got a chance to say this earlier, but thanks for your help this year."

Severus sat his handle-less teacup and shook his head. "It was nothing, I assure you."

Harry scoffed good-naturedly. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"I would have done the same for any student who asked."

"Even Neville?"

Though most observers would have missed it, Harry caught a little tick at the corner of Severus' eye. "Ye-es…" he ground out, obviously hating having to admit to it.

"Oh, and I wanted to apologize, too."

"What for?"

"For telling the Hat 'no' to Slytherin. I mean, it wasn't any fault of yours… Just wanted ya to know that," Harry gave the professor a small, lopsided grin and hurried back to his own chair. Severus merely stared after the boy. _That was… Odd,_ he thought, returning his attention to his tea.

Sitting down, Harry captured Hermione's attention, "Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she asked around a mouthful of melon.

"How come y'all ain't written this summer?"

She shook her head and hurriedly swallowed. "I have! I wrote a couple of times, but you never replied. Do you have any idea how hard it is to send an owl when I don't own one?"

"No, I don't, but I ain't got any letters from you. Why don't I give ya my muggle address, then you can just mail them as normal. Or our phone number. If your folks won't let ya call 'cause it's expensive, just have the operator reverse the charges."

Hermione retrieved a small address book from her backpack, which, now that it was summer, was full of her pleasure-reading books and a couple of notebooks for notes on questions and topics she wanted to research in more detail when returning to school. "I wonder what happened to the owls that were supposed to deliver the letters?" she asked, handing the address book to Harry.

"Dunno. Mayhap it's too far for a normal post owl to fly. Oh, well. This should fix the problem, in any rate." Harry scribbled down his address and phone number and handed the book back to its owner.

"At least I know you're not angry with me. I have to admit that I was a little afraid of that," Hermione said, putting the book away.

"Why'd ya think that?" Harry smirked, "Is there somethin' y'all wanna tell me?"

Hermione laughed a little. "No… But I do hope those letters show up eventually… I'll have to make sure to tell the postman in Diagon Alley when we go for my school supplies next month."

Eventually, everyone – even Ron – was full and ready to go home. The Gryffindor boys promised to continue practicing their music, and, with luck, they'd be able to get together to practice once or twice before returning to Hogwarts. Harry carried a box full of his gifts up to his room and sat it down in the middle of the floor. He started to put things away, but stopped when a squeaky voice said, "E-excuse me, Mister Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry whirled around and saw an odd creature standing under his bed, next to his toybox. His hand hovered in the vicinity of his wand, just in case. "What… Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir, Dobby the house elf." The creature seemed to be wearing an old pillowcase for clothes and had large ears and enormous eyes.

"What can I do for ya?" Harry asked, still unsure if he would need his wand or not.

"Dobby has come to tell you, sir… To warn you…" The voice trailed off and the little elf started tugging on an ear. "It is difficult, sir, Dobby wonders where to begin."

Figuring that the little creature wasn't likely to be a threat, Harry sat at his desk. "Sit down," he said, pointing to the reading chair at the foot of his bed. "It's usually best to start at the beginnin', or so I been told on numerous occasions."

The elf burst into tears. "S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never… never ever…"

Harry was more than a little confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anythin' like that."

"Offend Dobby!" the elf blubbered, "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard – like an _equal_…"

Harry sighed and wondered vaguely where his mom was. Sirius and Remus had gone down to the basement to play pool, and Jim and Dave were outside, tending the horses and the other animals. "Dobby?"

"Yes, Mister Harry Potter, sir?" The elf was still crying huge tears and hiccupping every now and again.

"Relax. I ain't gonna hurt ya, ya know. Why don't you take a breath and tell me what you came to tell me?"

It took the elf several minutes, but he eventually calmed down and sat on the footstool to Harry's dark blue reading chair. Harry thought he looked like a large, ugly doll. He was mildly disturbed at the look of adoration the elf had fixed on him. "Such an honor it is to finally meet the great Harry Potter, sir…"

Harry interrupted the elf. "Dobby, I realize that you probably don't know this, but I was adopted a long time ago. My last name is 'Brewer' now, not 'Potter.' Please use it."

Dobby's eyes filled with tears again, and he reached up and began twisting his ears, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Dobby had heard, but didn't use the right name – "

Harry wondered if there was something wrong with the elf or if all elves acted so strangely. "Dobby?"

Dobby paused in his self-punishment, "Yes, Mister Harry Brewer, sir?"

"Please don't hurt yourself. Just say what you came to say." _Damnit,_ Harry thought as the elf began crying again. _What did I say this time?_ "Dobby! What _are_ you doing?" The elf had resumed twisting its ears.

Harry's stern question startled the elf, stopping its tears. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby had to punish himself. Dobby knew Mister Harry Potter's new name is Harry Brewer, but forgot to use it."

Harry closed his eyes, _Gaia, if you're listening, please make this creature come to the point some time _tonight_. I'm really tired and would like to get to sleep sometime before dawn…_ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "That's okay, Dobby. A lot of people seem to have trouble rememberin' my name. You still haven't said why you're in my room, though."

"Dobby is sorry. Dobby is just excited to be here, Mister Harry Brewer, sir. Dobby has long heard of sir's greatness and long wanted to meet sir."

It took a moment for Harry to puzzle out the meaning behind that sentence. "Dunno 'bout that 'greatness' junk. I ain't _great_. I'm just me."

"But sir has defeated the Dark Lord!" the elf insisted. "Only a great wizard could have done so."

"If you insist," Harry replied, hoping that if he played along, the elf would eventually finish whatever he came for and leave.

Dobby nodded and blinked his large eyes. "Dobby does insist, sir. Mister Harry Potter, sir, is much too humble. Dobby heard tell that Master Harry Potter, sir, met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the second time only weeks ago. That sir had escaped yet again."

Harry shrugged, sighing internally over the elf's persistence in using 'Potter.' "Yeah, I met Voldemort again… What's that to do with anythin'?"

At the sound of the Dark Lord's name, Dobby's eyes grew even larger, and he clamped his hands over his ears. "Speak not the name! Not the name, sir!"

Harry winced at the elf's high-pitched shriek. "All right, all right. I won't say his name. Is You-Know-Who the reason you're here?"

Dobby blinked slowly and shook his head. "Not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir, not _him_. Dobby heard of a plot, sir, a plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." Dobby's voice had lowered in pitch until the elf was whispering. He had also begun trembling. "Dobby has known this for months, sir, that is why Dobby has come. Harry Brewer must stay where he is safe. He is too good, too great to lose."

"Huh?" Harry was beginning to get a headache from the circular speech of the elf. "What do you mean, 'stay where he is safe?'"

"If Harry Brewer goes back to Hogwarts this fall, he will be in mortal danger." Dobby leveled a pleading expression at Harry.

"Not go back to Hogwarts?" Harry's forehead wrinkled in thought. "You don't want me to go back to school this fall because someone's planning on doing something horrible?"

Dobby nodded, "Yes, sir! Dobby has come to protect Harry Brewer. Sir is valiant and bold, and has braved so many dangers already… He is too important to put himself in peril. Dobby came to warn sir, even if he does have to iron his ears later."

Harry rubbed a hand across his face. _Gaia… Is he serious?_ Harry wasn't quite sure if he meant the plot or the little creature ironing his ears. "Thanks for the warning, Dobby, but can I ask you a couple of questions?" Dobby nodded. Harry gave his brain a mental kick to jump-start it. "First off, why would you hafta iron your ears? That sounds like it'd be a mite painful."

Dobby nodded again. "Punishments are supposed to be painful, Mister Harry Brewer, sir. That's why they's punishments."

"Punishments?"

"For coming to warn you," Dobby's clarification was anything but.

"Why would you have to punish yourself for comin' to warn me?"

"Because Dobby's family would require it of him, should they learn of what he has done."

"Your family?" This was getting more and more confusing.

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir. They would not want Dobby telling sir this information, and for telling, Dobby would be punished if they found out, so Dobby will punish himself when he returns to his family."

"So, I take it they don't know you're here?"

Dobby shook his head. "No, sir. That is also why Dobby will be having to punish himself, sir."

"Won't they know you did somethin' if you're ironin' your ears?"

"No, Dobby is always having to punish himself for something. They lets Dobby get on with it and even sometimes reminds Dobby to do extra punishments."

"Sounds awful," Harry shivered a little at the mental images that the elf's explanation brought to mind. "Can't you leave? Escape?"

Dobby shook his head, "No, sir. Dobby is being a house elf, bound to serve one family forever, unless they is setting Dobby free, and they won't be setting him free. So, Dobby will be serving his family until he dies."

Harry grimaced at the thought of a lifetime of slavery. "Can't anyone help?"

The elf shrugged, "If so, then Dobby is not knowing how."

"Back to that plot…" Harry sighed. "Just _what _is it? Who's plannin' it? And _why_?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and sprang to his feet. He started banging his head frantically against the metal pole that supported a corner of Harry's bed. Harry reached over and placed his hand between the elf and the bed frame. "Dobby?"

"Sir?"

"I know that when a person is visitin' someone else's house, it's considered good form to follow the rules of that house while there. Do house elves have to follow the rules of whatever home they're in, even if it doesn't belong to their family?"

"Yes, Mister Harry Brewer, sir."

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "Good. In that case, the main rule about being in my room is that you're not allowed to punish yourself. If a punishment is needed, I'll let you know. The second rule about being in my room is that if you can't answer a question, just say so, either by tellin' me that you don't know the answer, or that your family has forbidden you from answerin' that specific question."

Dobby looked at Harry, his eyes filling with tears again. He hurried back to his seat on the foot stool, and Harry could have sworn he heard the elf muttering about Harry's supposed greatness once more. "Dobby is sorry, sir. Dobby thanks Mister Harry Brewer, sir, for letting him know the rules in his room."

"You're welcome, Dobby. Now, those questions… What is being planned?"

Dobby frowned and Harry was pretty sure he was forcing himself to remain seated. "Dobby cannot tell, sir. Dobby is sorry, but his family has forbidden him to say the details."

"If I guess, can you say if I'm right?"

Dobby's eyes widened and he nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir!"

"Hmm… Does it have anything to do with Vol – You-Know-Who?"

Dobby shook his head.

"Not him… What about the Death Eaters? Is it to do with them?"

"No, sir."

_This is going to take forever_, Harry thought. _Hmm… I wonder…?_ "Dobby? Have you ever heard of a game called 'Hot and Cold?'"

Dobby shook his head, "No, sir."

"Well, it's a game that kids play. Someone will take somethin' and hide it, then the other players will start lookin' for it. The person who hid it will give them hints on where the item is by sayin' either 'warm,' 'warmer,' or 'hot' if they're gettin' close to the item. If they're gettin' further away, the person who hid it will say either 'cold,' 'colder,' or 'icy.' Do you understand?"

The elf nodded, "Yes, Mister Harry Brewer, sir."

"Do you think we could do somethin' like that for my guesses? If I'm really wrong, say 'icy.' If I'm sort-of right, say 'warm.' Like that."

"Dobby thinks so."

Harry grinned and rubbed his hands together. "All right! Let me get a pad of paper and a pen, then we can get down to business." Balancing a notebook on his knee, he quickly scribbled out a list of questions. "So… goin' back to the 'Hot and Cold' rules, does this plot have anythin' to do with You-Know-Who?"

Dobby wrinkled his forehead. "Warm and cold."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Is You-Know-Who the one who came up with this plot?"

"Cold."

"Okay…" Harry made a note. "Did the Death Eaters come up with the plot?"

"Warmer."

"Was it a single Death Eater?"

"Hot."

Harry smiled, this was much easier than trying to get the little elf to unwillingly divulge the information. "Can you tell me who?"

Dobby shook his head, "No, sir. Dobby is forbidden."

A sudden thought struck Harry. "Who can forbid you from divulgin' information, Dobby? Is it only your family that can do so?"

Dobby nodded, "Yes, Harry Brewer, sir."

"Are you allowed to tell me who your family is?"

"Yes, sir. Dobby is bound to the Malfoys."

Harry growled low in his throat. It was a pretty good guess that the who behind this supposed plot was a Malfoy. "Was the Death Eater who came up with this plot a member of your family?"

"Hot," Dobby replied. Harry could see that the elf was extraordinarily relieved to be passing along this information in a way in which he could neither be punished, nor be considered as betraying his family.

"So, the person who came up with this plot is a Death Eater in your family. Is it Lucius Malfoy?"

"Hot."

Harry nodded and noted that down. "Okay, now that I know who, I need to find out what. Does this plot have anythin' to do with classes?"

"Icy."

"Okay, not classes. What else is at Hogwarts?" Harry mused. "Does it have anythin' to do with Albus Dumbledore?"

"Icy."

Harry frowned, "Hmm… What about the teachers? Does it have anythin' to do with them?"

"Icy."

"What else… Hmm… Does it have anythin' to do with quidditch?"

"What's colder than icy?" Dobby asked.

Harry chuckled. "Nothin'. Don't worry about it. So… Not quidditch, the teachers, classes, or Dumbledore. So, this plot… Is it against the students?"

"Warmer."

"Specific students?"

"Warmer."

"Me and my friends?"

"Warmer and colder."

"Hmm… Me and specific friends?"

"Warmer."

"Hmm… If I say one of my friends' names, will that help?"

Dobby shook his head, "Not really, sir. Dobby doesn't know who all the great Mister Harry Brewer has as friends."

"Okay… Lemme think a bit…" Harry sat back and stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes, mind running in overdrive. _Malfoy… Lucius is Draco's dad… Bought his way out of Azkaban after Voldemort disappeared… Draco's always on about being rich and pureblood… That's got to be it!_ "Is this plot against people who aren't pureblood?"

"Hot and cold, sir."

Harry wanted to scream in frustration. "How can that be both hot _and_ cold?"

"Part of it is correct, Mister Harry Brewer, sir, but it's not complete."

Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten in all the languages in which he knew how. "Okay… So, Lucius Malfoy concocted some plot against the non-pureblood friends of mine at school… but that ain't all. What am I missin'?" Harry looked up at the elf. "If you wanted to tell me somethin' about your family, somethin' that might _relate_ to this plot, but that can't directly be linked as a detail, can you?"

The elf nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, sir. Dobby can do so."

"Whatever you think is pertinent," Harry motioned for the elf to begin.

Dobby took a deep breath and began talking very fast. "Master Malfoy is childhood enemies with Arthur Weasley – they hates each other, sir. Master Malfoy collects Dark artifacts, sir, and keeps them in a _secret chamber_ under his drawing room floor at the manor. Master Malfoy hates _witches_ and wizards who aren't pureblood, it was why he became a Death Eater, to serve _You-Know-Who_. Master Malfoy keeps his _memories _in his _diary_. You-Know-Who is a parselmouth." The elf fell quiet and watched as Harry scribbled down everything he said.

_Funny, how he put particular emphasis on certain words…_ Harry made sure to underline those words in his notes. While he was finishing up his notes, he looked up to meet the elf's gaze. "How long can you stay before you're missed?"

The elf closed his eyes in concentration. "No more than another day, Mister Harry Brewer, sir. Dobby is supposed to be taking messages to his master's friends. That can take days, and he still has to do so."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, using a fresh page of paper to write out his thoughts much in the same manner as when he figured out the mystery surrounding Pettigrew. "Can you be quiet for a while? I need to think on this…"

"Yes, sir," Dobby nodded and proceeded to sit completely still for over twenty minutes. Harry found it slightly unnerving, but ignored the elf in favor of his thoughts.

Finally, Harry leaned back in his chair. "Okay, I think I've figured a few things out. Let me say what I think, then let me know if I'm right." Dobby nodded. "Let's see… Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater who is plottin' against me this year. It has somethin' to do with his pureblood bias. He's probably gonna use some sort of Dark object he has in his collection. This involves the Weasleys in some fashion, as well as a diary of memories, a hidden room at Hogwarts, an' also has somethin' to do with Vol- You-Know-Who bein' able to talk to snakes. Right?"

Dobby nodded excitedly, "Yes, sir!"

"Okay… Now, this Dark object… Is it a diary?"

"Hot."

"So the Dark object that Malfoy is gonna use in this plot is a diary?"

"Hot," the elf confirmed.

"Is it his diary?"

"Cold."

"Not his diary… Obviously, the diary is magical if it's a Dark object… Is the diary You-Know-Who's?"

"Hot," Dobby was practically beaming.

"Okay. Lucius Malfoy is goin' ta use his master's old diary – which is enchanted in some way, probably nasty – to 'make most terrible things happen' at school. How the _hell_ can a book cause things like that?" Dobby didn't answer, as Harry was obviously not addressing him. Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Okay… I'll leave that for now. What about this hidden room at Hogwarts…? Just how does that link in? Hmm… Does the diary tell how to find this hidden room?"

"Dobby doesn't know, sir."

"And the Weasleys… Tell me, Dobby, do you know who your master is plannin' on gettin' to do his dirty work for him?"

"Yes, sir, but Dobby can't say who."

"I figured that much, Dobby. It has to be someone who's still at school, otherwise it wouldn't be a plot for things to happen _at Hogwarts._ So… it'll be either Percy, Fred, George, Ron, or their sister, Ginny. Is it Ron?"

"Cold."

"The twins, Fred and George?"

"Cold."

"Percy?"

"Cold."

"Okay, so Malfoy will be targetin' Ginny for this plot. Makes sense, if it involves a diary. I don't know no guys that write in a diary…" Harry nodded and stood. "All right, Dobby. I think I know enough to figure out the rest on my own. Thanks for the information, by the way."

"Dobby is grateful that he could help Mister Harry Brewer, sir. But, will sir promise not to go back to Hogwarts? Sir's life is in danger!"

Harry snorted, "What else is new? I can't promise not to go back, Dobby. If what you say is really gonna happen, then I'll need to tell others at the school, so we can make sure no one gets hurt. Besides, most of my friends are gonna be goin' to Hogwarts, an' I wanna be with 'em."

"Friends that don't even write to Harry Brewer?" the elf asked innocently, though Harry thought he could see a sly glint in the creature's overlarge eyes.

"Hold up…" Harry's forehead furrowed. "I've talked to most of my friends… Hell, I talked to damn near ev'ry one of them today. The only one I ain't got a letter from is Hermione. Just what do you know about that?"

Dobby seemed to suddenly realize that he was, indeed, still talking to Harry Brewer – who would forever be Harry Potter in the elf's mind – and his greenish complexion turned an odd shade of blue. Harry wondered if that meant that the elf was blushing. "Harry Brewer, sir, mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best – "

"Have you been stoppin' my letters from the owls?" Harry's voice was stern.

Dobby fidgeted on the stool before nodding slowly. "Yes, sir. Dobby has them here." He pulled a stack of envelopes out of the dirty pillowcase that he was wearing. Harry could see Hermione's neat script on most of them, one or two seemed to have Professor Snape's spiky writing, and even a scribble that looked as though it might be from Hagrid. "Harry Brewer mustn't be angry, sir… Dobby had hoped that if Harry Brewer had thought his friends had forgotten him he wouldn't want to return to school, sir."

Harry scowled at the elf. "Give me my letters, Dobby."

"Only if sir promises not to return to Hogwarts, sir."

Harry clenched his teeth together hard enough for his jaw to hurt a little. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby bounced out of reach. Harry took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to relax. "Dobby?"

"Sir?"

"You said that you consider me 'great.' Right?"

"Yes, Mister Harry Brewer, sir." The elf nodded exuberantly.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because sir _is_ great! He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named _twice_!"

"And is You-Know-Who more or less powerful than Lucius Malfoy?"

The elf blinked, "More, sir."

"Do you think that, if I had to, I could defeat your master?"

"Yes, sir."

"Last question, Dobby. Would a 'great' wizard allow their friends to go blindly into a dangerous situation?"

Dobby slowly sat back down, thinking. Finally he looked up at Harry, "No, sir. He wouldn't."

"Do you see now why I have to go back to school this fall? I need to warn my friends. I need to keep them safe." Harry's voice was no longer stern or angry, but soft and laced with pleading. He was trying to project confidence in his – Harry's – abilities at the little elf, but wasn't sure if empathy worked on the creatures.

Dobby looked back to the bundle of letters in his hand and slowly held them out to Harry. "Dobby is sorry, sir, for doubting sir's greatness. Dobby hopes that sir can forgive him."

Harry smiled softly and took the bundle from the elf, "Don't worry about it, Dobby. You meant well and no one got hurt. Thanks again."

The elf was crying again, albeit quietly this time. "Mister Harry Brewer, sir, is much too kind to a lowly house elf."

Harry shook his head, "Oh pshaw on that, Dobby. Tell you what, if you think of anythin' else that can help me figure this out, go ahead and find me. Or write to me – can you read an' write?" Dobby nodded. "Good. In return, I'll see what I c'n do about gettin' ya away from the Malfoys. Deal?" Harry offered the creature his hand.

Dobby accepted the hand tearfully. "Sir truly is _great_," he said shaking Harry's hand. When he released Harry's hand, the elf snapped his fingers and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Harry flopped into his reading chair and began going through his mail. "If that ain't just about the _weirdest_ damn thing that's ever happened to me, I'll eat my hat…"

* * *

**A/N2:** The Sirius/Harry scene should be posted to 'Bonus Features' sometime tomorrow. 

**A/N3: **(September 2, 2007) Edited to fix the Scout error (apparently, 12 is too young to be an Eagle Scout. I think I'll blame this goof on the fact that both my beta and myself are girls and neither of us were ever involved in any sort of scout club).


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** And onwards we go marching...

* * *

**Chapter Two: At the Burrow**

The strange occurrence with the visiting house elf and the news he brought was the sole occupation of Harry's thoughts for the better part of two weeks. He wasn't any closer to answering his remaining questions, however, and so decided to set it aside until such time as he could get some useful information. He was pretty sure Professor Snape might have more information – he'd already talked to both Sirius and Remus, and neither of them could tell him more than they weren't surprised at Hogwarts having a secret room. Remus pointed out that a building as magical as the school was bound to have several hidden rooms and secret passageways – likely even ones that the Marauders had never located. Harry also knew that they had spoken to Dumbledore about Dobby's warning, but no one was telling him _anything_ concerning any plans they had regarding it. Harry was starting to get a little frustrated, it was like the adults didn't _want_ him to know what was going on!

The mystery, though, was going to have to wait until he returned to school. Harry received a floo from Ron during the second week of August inviting him to stay at the Burrow until school resumed. Harry's parents gave their consent, and Harry traveled to the Weasleys' with his trunk in tow on the morning of August eighteenth.

The Burrow was as different as possible from the Brewer ranch. Aurilia liked things to be relatively predictable and quiet; the Weasleys' home seemed to thrive on the loud and unexpected. Harry got a little shock upon his arrival, when the mirror over the kitchen floo shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" _I really hope the bathroom mirror can't see me, too,_ Harry thought, ignoring the mirror's advice. The ghoul in the attic – _Just _what_ is a ghoul?_ – howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were too quiet. Small explosions from Fred's and George's bedroom were a commonplace occurrence, and Harry quit startling after each one by the end of his third day. All-in-all, it lived and breathed chaos. Harry was in heaven.

The only downside – if it could even rightly be called that – was that Mr. Weasley insisted on having Harry sit next to him during meals, so that Harry could explain how muggle things like plugs, batteries, and the postal service worked. The topic of conversation the morning the Hogwarts letters arrived was how to use a telephone.

"No, really. You just dial the number that corresponds to person ya wanna talk to, an' it'll connect. Of course, this is just for home phones. Pay phones need money – usually coins, but sometimes you can use a callin' card – in order to work, and business phones usually have special dialin' instructions, like havin' to dial a '9' if you're callin' a phone not part of the business."

Arthur munched on a scone, "Fascinating, really, how many ways muggles have found of getting along without magic."

Harry smiled a little, "I know. Though, if ya really think about it, muggles have science. And when ya look really close at science, no one is a hundred percent sure _why_ it all works, just that it _does_. So… In my opinion, it's _all_ magic."

Further discussion was halted by the arrival of an owl carrying several letters – the Hogwarts letters. Harry's – and, presumably, the letters for Ginny, Ron, Percy, Fred, and George – told him to catch the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross on September first, precisely at eleven o'clock. It also had his book list for the upcoming year.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY COURSE BOOKS**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) by Miranda Goshawk  
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart  
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

There was another piece of parchment included in Harry's letter. He smiled a little at Professor Snape's distinctive handwriting.

_Brewer –_

_Should the required reading for the upcoming year become… tedious, might I recommend __Not Quite Unforgivable: The Ethics of Spell-casting__by Reginald Goode and Edith Mal, as well as __Gray Magic_ _by Alphonse Irkson. Lockhart is an idiot._

_If you wish to add to your summer essay, add two feet on the reactions of lavender oil in memory potions. This will be worth an additional ten percent, and feel free to share this addition with any of your cohorts._

_- Prof. S. Snape_

George was leaning over Harry's shoulder. "Why's Snape writing to you?"

Harry snickered and tucked the note in his pocket, "For the same reason he came to my birthday party."

"Don't tell me you're friends with that bat!" Fred hissed, quietly enough that Mrs. Weasley couldn't hear him.

Harry shook his head, "No, not _friends_, per se… It's more like we've got a mutual understandin' and respect. I think it helps that I'm top in his class…"

Fred and George exchanged a look that had Harry slightly alarmed. "You wouldn't be…"

"…turning into Percy on us, would you?"

Harry snorted, "Not hardly. I still know how to have fun without havin' ta force myself. It ain't like I'm in the library at all hours. C'm on, guys, ya _know_ me. Would I willingly spend a sunny day like today inside if I could help it?"

"True," Fred admitted.

"However, you _are_ just as likely to spend the day on your broom as with a book in the sun," George shook his head at Harry.

Percy, ignoring the conversation between his brothers and Harry read through his letter. "This lot won't come cheep, Mum. We've all been told to get a set of Lockhart's books, and you know they're on the expensive side."

"Well, we'll manage," replied Mrs. Weasley, though she was a touch worried. "I expect we'll be able to get most of Ginny's things secondhand."

An idea hit Harry when he overheard the worry in Molly's voice. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can I floo my mom in the livin' room?" She nodded, and Harry hurried to the other fireplace in the house. Harry grabbed a small pinch of the international floo powder his mom had provided – via Harry – for all of his friends on the network. "Brewer Ranch!" After a few moments of disorienting spinning, Harry's head emerged in the fireplace of his living room. He knew a chime would have sounded, signaling his call. Jim wandered into the living room a couple of minutes later, still rather bleary. Harry did some quick calculating and realized that it was only two o'clock in the morning.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothin', Dad. I just needed to talk to Mom."

"Can't this wait?"

"No… Would you get her for me?"

Jim sighed and nodded, "Hang on a min. I'll go wake her up."

"Thanks," Harry smiled at Jim as he waived of the gratitude and disappeared. It took a good ten minutes for Aurilia to appear wrapped up in her fluffy purple bathrobe. She had dark circles under her eyes. "Mom?"

"Harry?"

"You don't look so hot."

She shrugged, "Livia has colic. Won't sleep for more than an hour or two at a stretch. Jim said you wanted something?"

Harry nodded, "Hope Liv starts feeling better soon. But, what I called about, and I'm sorry for wakin' ya, but I wanted to know if I could have you set up something for the Weasleys?"

"Huh? Luz, stop. Think, 'What am I going to say?' _Then_ talk."

Harry chuckled at the somewhat familiar reprimand. "Sorry. It's just that we all received our book lists for this year, an' we're _all_ supposed to get this really expensive set of books. Ginny, Ron's little sister – remember her from the party? – will also be starting up at Hogwarts this year, too, an', well… The Weasleys don't have all that much money…"

Aurilia's sleep-deprived brain finally connected the dots. "Ah, I see. You wanted me to set up a line of credit for them at the stores on Diagon Alley?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Only make sure they don't know it's comin' from us. Ron gets a little funny whenever money's mentioned. He don't seem to realize that money sittin' in a bank ain't doin' anyone any good, and _hates_ it when I buy him somethin'."

"I understand, luz. Will you be going to Diagon today or later in the week?"

"I don't know. Want me to ask?"

Aurilia sighed and shook her head, "No… don't worry about it. As long as you're sure?"

"I am."

"All right. I'll have it done by…" she looked to the clock that used to hang above the mantle, which was now mounted above the desk across the room, "Noon, your time."

"Okay. I think I can stall them that long, if we're even goin' today."

"Love you, luz."

"I love you, too, Mom. Give Liv and Cy hugs from me, an' tell Dad I'm sorry for wakin' him up. Send Dave my hello, too."

"Will do. Have fun, honey."

"Always," Harry replied and ended the call. He stood, brushing stray flecks of ash off of his clothes.

"What was that about?" Percy asked from the doorway.

Harry spun around, "Perce! You startled me!"

Percy had a strange expression on his face, one that Harry couldn't decipher. "I apologize. But… What was all that about a line of credit?"

Harry sighed and flopped onto the sofa. He gestured to Percy to join him. "First off, this don't go any further than the two of us, right?"

Percy's eyes narrowed, "That depends. I only caught some of what you were talking about."

"Trust me, Perce. It ain't bad."

"Do I have your word on that?"

"Scout's honor," Harry saluted. "I know your family doesn't have a lot of money… I wanted to help, but I know that your folks wouldn't take anythin' I offered. It _ain't_ charity. Remember what you learned about friends bein' the family you choose?" Percy nodded. "Family takes care of its own, and y'all are included in my family. I ain't never gonna be able to spend all the money I have, an' it ain't doin' no one any good just sittin' in Gringotts. If I can make sure that everyone has the stuff they need for school, an' Ginny won't have ta worry 'bout no teasin' 'cause of her clothes, an' your folks can still pay their bills, then it's money well-spent."

Percy nodded thoughtfully. "I think I see what you mean. How are you going to make sure that Mum and Dad don't find out, though?"

Harry shrugged, "That ain't my problem, Perce. Mom'll figure that part out. If I know her, she'll set it up like y'all won some contest or other… She did somethin' similar for A.J.'s family a couple of years ago. It had been a hard summer an' their crops suffered, so she cut them a check for… Hmm… what would it be in wizard money? Ah, ten thousand galleons and had her lawyer friend draft a phony letter of congratulations for them. It let them keep their farm, an' they didn't have ta bruise their pride none in acceptin' help from Mom. Don't you dare let on to them that you know, though. I don't wanna hurt ya none."

Percy laughed, "Don't worry, I won't. You know, I think you and your mum could give Fred and George a run for their money in the prank department, though your pranks are of a somewhat different flavor."

Harry grinned and shrugged, "I s'pose so." He stretched and stood. "I'm gonna go finish up breakfast – of course, that's if Ron's left us any."

Percy chuckled, "The bottomless pit of brothers. I was going to finish up a letter to Aurora."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Percy meant A.J. His jaw dropped in shock. "'Aurora?' She lets you call her 'Aurora?'"

Percy nodded, "That's surprising?"

"Considerin' that she said she'd kill me if I ever called her anythin' but 'A.J.,' _hell yeah_, it's surprisin'!" Harry was chased from the room by Percy's laughter.

He sat back at his place at the table and started in on what remained of his breakfast. Molly smiled at him, "Did your call go well?" Harry nodded around a mouthful of bacon. He had just swallowed when what appeared to be a molting, grey feather duster landed in a bowl of eggs.

"Errol!" Ron shouted, removing the bird from the dish. "Ah… He's got a letter from Hermione. Looks like there's one here from Dean, too." Ron handed Harry the one from Hermione, and when they finished, they traded.

_Harry,_

_Your party was excellent! Really looking forward to next year's! Anyway, I've got a couple of days this month where I'm not going to be doing anything, and I talked to Seamus, and he's got the same days free. I know you're staying at Ron's, so all we need to do is get in touch with Neville, and we might be able to get together for a practice or two. Write me back when you can._

_Dean_

_P.S. Is there something wrong with your bird? He collapsed when he arrived…I'd thought he __died__, but then he popped up all hooting and stuff… Startled me, it did!_

_19 August, 1992  
Dear Ron and Harry,_

_Harry, your party was quite fun. I hadn't been to a water park for ages! Thanks again for inviting me._

_Ron, you might want to have a veterinarian take a look at your owl, he seemed rather… tired upon his arrival._

_In any case, Mum and Dad will be taking me to Diagon Alley next Wednesday to get my Hogwarts things. Hopefully, we'll be able to meet up and spend a little time together. Write back when you know if we can or not._

_Love from Hermione_

"Well, that fits in nicely. We can go and get all your things then, too," Mrs. Weasley said as she stood and began to clear the table. "What are your plans for today?"

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, so they would be able to play on their brooms, provided they didn't fly too high. Ginny hurried through her chores and followed her brothers up to the makeshift quidditch pitch, where the boys were taking turns riding Harry's Nimbus. Harry was laughingly riding Ron's old Shooting Star, commenting that he'd probably go faster and higher if he harnessed a team of pigeons to it.

"Wish I knew what Percy has been up to," Fred commented, hitting a tennis ball with his beater bat back to George.

"Yeah," replied George, diving to hit the ball again. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you got here, Harry. He got twelve OWLs and hardly gloated at all."

"Bill got twelve, too," Ron added to the conversation. "If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family."

The twins snickered and said, "Oh, no! The horror!"

Harry chuckled and landed to trade brooms back with Ron. "I think I know what he's up to, but I dunno if he'd be all that happy with me if I told y'all. 'Sides, it ain't none of your business, an' iffen he's busy with somethin' else, then he ain't gonna be tattlin' on y'all all the time. Right?"

Fred and George grinned, "True…"

"…We hadn't thought of that, mate."

Harry just noticed Ginny watching her brothers from the shade of an apple tree. He could tell she was a little jealous that they'd all gotten to ride the Nimbus and she hadn't. _I can fix that,_ he thought striding over to her. "Mornin' Ginny. Did you wanna try the Nimbus, too?"

Her eyes lit up, but her expression fell when Ron snorted, "Don't let her, Harry! She's never ridden a broom before! She'll probably crash it!"

Harry felt a combination of irritation and anger coming from Ginny. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron, "Oh, I don't think she will." He faced Ginny again, "You won't, right?" She shook her head, causing her hair to fan out for a moment. Harry took that moment to ponder why Ginny was always so quiet around him, but shrugged it off as he handed her the broom. "If anythin' does happen to it, don't worry none. It's just a broom. Just make sure _you're_ okay, if you crash."

Ginny reverently took the broom, looking it over with an expression similar to the longing look he'd seen on Ron's face when they looked through the catalogues of quidditch stuff before Christmas. He had a feeling that, despite her brothers' ribbing, Ginny knew perfectly well how to fly and had enough of an appreciation for quidditch to know the quality of his broom – the _true_ quality, not just that it was the fastest broom currently on the market. Hell, it wouldn't surprise Harry any to find out that Ginny knew the newest models of racing brooms were always released the last week of August. Much to her brothers' amazement, Harry was proven right when Ginny kicked off and proceeded to fly circles around her brothers. She was playing a game of keep-away with Fred and George when Ron landed and leaned on his broom.

"Somethin' on your mind, mi amigo?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged, "Not really. Just wonderin' why you let Ginny try your broom."

"Ev'ryone else had a go. Why not? It's just a broom."

Ron shook his head, unwilling or unable to comprehend Harry's nonchalant attitude.

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside. "We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry, dear!"

Harry grabbed a pinch of the dwindling supply of floo powder. "Diagon, right?" Mrs. Weasley nodded. A moment later, Harry was engulfed in emerald green flames and spinning madly through the network. After a much shorter journey than he was used to, Harry stepped calmly out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't have long to wait before the Weasleys joined him.

"Where to first?" Ron asked. Harry had to hide a little smile when he recalled that the Weasleys had, indeed, received a 'letter of notification' claiming they'd won a random drawing of all wizarding Britain, the winnings being a ten-thousand galleon tab usable at any and all shops in either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, and so no trip to Gringotts would be necessary. Aurilia had flooed Harry a sizeable amount of wizarding money – more than enough for his school things. When he'd asked, she said that Remus and Sirius had finally gotten around to locating the wizarding sector of Des Moines, and yes, she'd take him to visit it when he returned home for Yule.

"Hmm…" Mrs. Weasley looked over her list. "Why don't you boys go with Arthur and get your books. Ginny and I will meet you at Flourish and Blots after we get her sized for her robes." Arthur nodded and lead his sons, plus Harry, into the alley and towards the bookstore.

They bumped into Hermione and her parents among the crowd waiting to gain entry to the bookshop. A large banner stretched across the upper windows proclaiming:

**Gilderoy Lockhart**  
_will be signing copies of his autobiography_  
Magical Me  
_today from 12:30 pm to 4:30 pm_.

"We can actually meet him!" Harry heard Hermione squeal to her parents. "He's written practically the whole booklist for this year!"

The man who was undoubtably Hermione's father patted her shoulder, replying in a distracted voice, "Yes, yes, dear. Do settle down, though, won't you?"

"Oi! Hermione!" Ron shouted.

Hermione whirled around, "Ron, Harry! Glad you could come today! Isn't this so exciting?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a confused glance. "Um… Not really. Annoyin' is more like it. I mean, we didn't account for an extra hour or six just to get _into_ the store…"

Hermione playfully slapped Harry's arm, "Oh, not that, you twit! I mean, we'll actually get to met a real _author_!"

"Shoulda known that's what you'd be so all fired-up about," Harry smiled at the witch.

A loud voice from a harassed-looking wizard at the door interrupted them, "Calmly, please, ladies," he was obviously talking to the crowd at large, most of whom looked to be witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. "Don't push, there… Mind the books, now…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of the Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) while Mr. Weasley secured a place in line, Hermione's parents discussing something with him that Harry couldn't hear.

Ron was perusing the periodicals, snickering over a joke in _Quidditch Monthly_, and Hermione was looking through the books with a singularly hungry look in her eyes. Harry amused himself by leafing through a couple of titles that appeared interesting. He also managed to locate the two books Professor Snape had recommended, Not Quite Unforgivable: The Ethics of Spell-casting and Gray Magic. The first one looked to be a rather amusing read, the authors didn't much care for each other at all, and the entire book was written as a series of letters back and forth between them, with the odd journal or newspaper article thrown in to lend credence to one viewpoint or the other. The second appeared to be a rather straightforward text on how magic could be used for good or evil. _Heh, looks like there's a theme with the professor's recommendations this year._

Before long, Harry caught sight of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley through the thick throng of people and stacks of books. They found their way to Arthur, who, surprisingly, had advanced in line quite a bit. Mrs. Weasley leaned down, no doubt to tell Ginny to go locate her books. A couple of minutes later, Harry hurried over to help her, as she had not only her first-year books to contend with, but it looked as though she and her mother had also stopped by the apothecary on the way over; she was also toting her cauldron. Harry knew from experience that those damn things weighed a lot more than they looked.

"Need some help?"

"Thanks," Ginny replied, handing Harry the stack of books.

Harry tucked them into his own stack, "No problema, mi amiga. ¿Qué más?"

Ginny blinked, "Huh?"

"¿Qué más? It means, 'What else?' or 'What more?'"

"What is that, Italian?"

Harry shook his head, "No, Spanish. Mom made me learn."

"Oh. Say something else?"

Harry shrugged, "What?"

"Anything."

"Hmm… Aprendo de memoria muchas cosas; todos los días, algo más nuevo y interesante y un misterio completo presentan. No sé qué hacer, pero aprendo, y me gusta."

"That's really pretty. What's it mean?"

Harry chuckled, "Roughly translated, it means that, basically, I like learning about the wizarding world."

"Is that all?"

Harry shrugged, "I reckon there might've been a li'l more to it, but it don't matter none. But, you never answered what I asked. What else did you need from here?"

"Just Lockhart's books."

Harry nodded and accompanied Ginny back to her parents. Ron and Hermione had already located them. "Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute."

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. "Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the _Daily Prophet_ –"

"Whoop-de-do," said Ron, borrowing one of Harry's expressions and rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron, then Hermione, and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively _shouted_, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward and seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. Though the crowd was bursting into applause, Harry was more than a little angry, and for two reasons. 1) This Pfauhahn obviously hadn't gotten the memo about his name change, and 2) The Pfauhahn just grabbed him without so much as a 'by your leave.' Celebrity or not, Harry wasn't about to let that slide.

He grabbed the Pfauhahn's wrist with his right hand and jerked it off of his arm. In one smooth motion, it was soon pinned behind the Pfauhahn's back, and the Pfauhahn was on his knees, his eyes watering. Harry leaned down to whisper into the man's ear. "Listen up, you damn Pfauhahn, and listen well. You ever lay a hand on me again, you Schlammer, you're gonna _lose_ it, an' I'll make damn sure you won't _never_ get it back. Got it?"

The Pfauhahn nodded.

"Good." Harry let go of his wrist. "And my last name's _Brewer_, you idiot, or can't you read? I'm sure the paper had to have said somethin' last year." Harry stepped back into the crowd, the entire exchange had taken only a matter of moments, and had been quick enough that most people didn't quite have time to process precisely what they'd seen. As he stepped past the photographer, he tapped the man on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow Harry. As much as his assignment had been to cover the book-signing only, the photographer was intrigued enough to follow Harry to a quiet corner of the store. "I'll give you a hundred galleons for your camera, and any film you may have already shot of that little incident." Harry said without preamble.

In the background, he could hear Lockhart blathering on about something or other, but he tuned it out. He was more interested in the photographer at this precise moment in time.

"I don't know," the man replied. "This _is_ my job, you know."

"Sure, I know that, but how about I throw in an interview at some point in the future? I really don't want my face in the papers, but I understand it can't be helped. Better if it's on my terms. Interested?"

The man looked offended for a split second before the implications of what Harry had said burst forth in his brain. The man gave a greasy little smile, "Of course, Mr. Brewer. I already have more than enough film for my assignment. I'll be in touch about that interview. Hogwarts, right?"

Harry nodded and handed the man a stack of gold coins. The photographer handed him his camera and disappeared in the crowd. Just then, Harry realized what Lockhart had been droning on about. _Great, just wonderful. He's going to be the new Defense professor this year. I wonder… Can assaulting a professor outside of school be a cause for house-point loss or detention?_ He made a mental note to ask about it as soon as he got the chance. He hurried back over to the waiting Weasleys, but was having difficulty navigating through the packed store.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, _Potter_?" a voice Harry had no difficulty recognizing cut through the chatter of the nearby witches and wizards. Harry slowly turned around and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his habitual sneer. "Famous Harry _Potter_, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want that!" Ginny replied before Harry could. She was glaring at Malfoy.

"Looks as though you've got yourself a girlfriend, _Potter_." Malfoy drawled.

_He just doesn't know when to quit!_ Harry's temper, though slow to come to the surface – in most cases – was still set at a high simmer, and he _wasn't _in the mood to deal with Krätze. Ginny was bright red and Harry could see that Ron and Hermione, followed closely by the twins and Percy, were trying to get to them, but it was at best a futile attempt what with all the people present and the fact that they all were laden with stacks of books. Harry didn't know what had happened to his own stack of books, he'd dropped them when Lockhart grabbed him. He hoped that one of the Weasleys had picked them up.

"I see you still haven't learned when to shut that mouth of yours, Krätze. I am _not_ in the mood to put up with your shit today, so unless _you're_ in the mood to have that chip knocked clear off your shoulder, you'll _shut the hell up_."

A somewhat breathless Ron, followed shortly by Hermione, showed up. "Oh… It's _you_," he said, looking at Malfoy as though he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Surprised to see Harry here, are you?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Malfoy retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny had and dropped his books into her cauldron as he started towards the irritating little bugger. He didn't get far, as Percy and the twins had arrived and the twins grabbed a hold of his jacket. Mr. Weasley wasn't far behind them, and Harry could see that he was carrying his books. "What are you doing?" he asked the group of them. "Come on, let's go outside. Molly will call for us when she needs us."

"Well, well, well. Arthur Weasley." A cold voice drawled. Harry turned back to Draco and saw a tall man, pale to the same extent as the Krätze, was speaking. Harry noticed that even their sneers were identical.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley replied, coolly polite.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said. "All those raids… I do hope they're paying you overtime?" He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted a couple of books, as shiny and new in every way as the Lockhart ones. "Apparently so," Lucius sounded disappointed. "That's all well, then. I mean, what use is being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea as to what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly," Mr. Malfoy replied, his eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger who had gravitated closer to keep an eye on their daughter. Lucius made a tsking noise. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I though your family could sink no lower."

At that moment, several things happened simultaneously. There was a thud as the stack of Harry's books hit the floor, another thunk with a metallic undertone as Ginny's cauldron hit the floor, a 'bloody hell' from Ron, who got the cauldron on the same foot the reporter had stomped on earlier, and a low growl from Harry as he launched himself at the taller Malfoy. He even managed to land a particularly well-placed elbow in Draco's solar plexus as he sped by. To the surprise of the remaining Weasleys, Percy was close behind Harry.

Using a combination of the karate lessons he'd had for several years, the street-fighting techniques that Jim and Dave had taught him, and breaking just about every rule his dad and uncle had taught him about fighting, Harry soon had the taller, heavier, and definitely eviler man locked in a rather uncomfortable position. It helped, somewhat, that Percy was also helping keep the man in place. Amid the baffling strings of German and Spanish, the spectators – because by now, there _were _spectators – heard several sentences coming from the Boy-Who-Lived, "Über Krätze, as your son could prob'ly tell you, money ain't no subs'tute for _brains_ or _talent_… Ya know, you're almost as much as a Pfauhahn as Lockhart… What kinda man wears a _velvet bow_…?" A ripping sound followed _that _comment, and everyone there could see Malfoy senior wince as Harry ripped the bow from his hair. Percy just had a strange, feral little grin at that point.

"Done, Harry?" Hermione quietly asked when he seemed to have run out of interesting ways to slander the Malfoys' ancestry in German, Spanish, and English.

Harry shook himself and let go of the blonde man. "Yeah, I think so." He dropped the black velvet ribbon on Lucius' lap. "Take your damn bow and go, Über Krätze. I just hope you enjoy the thought that two _kids _managed to best you, _and_ that your own _son_ did nothing to help you." He smirked at Draco, who was still trying to stand up straight and get his breath back. Though Harry was tempted to spit on Lucius – or Draco, he couldn't really tell which deserved it more – he refrained. He had damaged Malfoy's ego enough for the day… really, that applied to either, as well. _Who'd've thunk it? The day's looking up again._

Lucius, for his part, merely shot threatening glares at Harry as he composed himself and gathered his son, who looked decidedly worried about the comment Harry had tossed out about him not helping his father. When Lucius and Draco were gone Percy leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear, "You saved the hairs, right?"

Harry nodded, "Of course. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin?"

"I think so, Harry. Get your folks to post you a chunk of cedar wood. It needs to be about twelve inches long and six or eight inches thick. Just the red part of the wood, none of the white. I know you've got cedar trees on your land."

Harry turned slightly to look at Percy. "Um… Huh?"

Percy smiled, "Obviously, we think on different lines. But," he glanced around and saw that his brothers were gathering the dropped books and whatnot, "not here. When we get back to the Burrow."

"Agreed. Thanks for the help. Dunno if I coulda held him down like that without your help."

"Don't worry about it. Although, what with Dad hating Malfoy, I'm surprised _he_ didn't join in."

"Musta just been shocked ta see _you_ did."

Percy chuckled and set to gathering his own purchases together. "You just might be right about that, Harry. Come on, I think Mum's about ready to go."

Though it was an accurate statement, it did nothing to convey the thinly bottled rage boiling just under Molly's seemingly calm demeanor. The rest of their school shopping was done quickly, in strangely subdued silence. Fred and George seemed to be looking at Percy every few minutes as though they'd never met him before, and Molly was caught several times leveling hard stares at Harry. Harry hoped that he hadn't done anything to cause her to send him home for the remainder of the summer… Though, he didn't, in truth, think on that too awfully much. The majority of his thoughts were centered on Lucius Malfoy. _And Dobby thinks _that_ idiot is planning to set loose some sort of evil at Hogwarts? Hah! I don't think he could _plan_ his way out of the nearest bathroom._ Harry smirked as he threw down a handful of floo powder in the Leaky Cauldron, calling out, "The Burrow!" _At least I'll be able to get my hands on that hexed diary or whatever it is; I know I saw Über Krätze __tuck something that looked a lot like a ledger into her book… I'll just help Ginny pack for the year – I know her brothers won't help her._

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**A/N2:** Like I said before, the scene everyone seems irked that I cut will be posted to 'Bonus Features' sometime before the end of the day tomorrow. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Here y'all go! The Spanish in this chapter (much like the last) is as accurate as I can make it, but it's been almost ten years since my last Spanish class, so if there are any errors, let me know. As to their translations... I think it's pretty obvious from the context of the story.

* * *

**Chapter Three: The End of Summer**

Upon returning to the Burrow, Molly Weasley instructed everyone to go unpack their purchases then return to the living room. Harry followed Ron up to his room to do so, and by the time that they returned to the living room, Harry realized that he was likely in for it. His mom was sitting in an armchair, looking positively livid. Mrs. Weasley had, no doubt, already informed his mom of the events at Flourish and Blots. She leveled her gaze at her son and merely said, "Explain."

Harry sighed and suddenly realized that he was really being rather silly about not telling his mom about the visit from Dobby… "Hay más ocurre que sólo me enfado, Mom. ¿Puede hablamos en privado, por favor?"

Aurilia, still extremely upset about the severe lack of judgment her son had displayed at the bookshop, was also curious at this point. She hoped that Harry had a good explanation for his – according to Molly – reprehensible behavior, and the fact that he seemed unwilling to discuss it in front of others, along with the strange events she'd been told about concerning the previous events at Hogwarts, convinced her to hold her temper for the moment. "¿Qué pasó, luz?"

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His mom had called him 'luz,' something she didn't do if she was hell-bent on being angry with him. "Más que podo decir, y sin duda más que sé… Algo muy extraño. Mom ¿por favor, puede hablamos en privado?"

Aurilia nodded and turned to Molly. "Is there somewhere I could speak with Harry in private, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Of course, Aurilia. Feel free to use the kitchen. It's right through there," she pointed towards the door, "though I dare say Harry could show you."

While his mom asked her question of Molly, Harry caught Percy's eye and motioned with his head for the older boy to follow him. Ron didn't seem to notice when Percy stealthily disappeared into the kitchen, but, then again, Ron wasn't the most observant of people… Harry was startled out of his musings mere seconds later by his mom's hand on his shoulder. "Come along, then, Harry."

Harry nodded and led his mom to the Weasley's kitchen. Percy had taken it on himself to heat some water for tea. "Mom, I trust you remember Percy?"

"Yes."

Percy nodded a greeting to Aurilia while Harry took it upon himself to set the strongest silencing charms he knew around the kitchen – since he was not only classified as an American citizen, but his mother was there, as well, he didn't have to bow to the underage magic laws which governed Britain. "Harry?" Percy asked.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Perce. I actually want you to know what's goin' on, too. Don't think it ain't escaped my attention that you've got the highest marks in your grade. Iffen Hermione were here, I'd have her sit in, too, but since she ain't, I guess I'll hafta talk to her when we get to school."

"Huh?"

Harry shook his head, "Never mind. Just keep your ears open for right now." With that, Harry launched into telling them about his visit from Dobby on his birthday, and then told his mom about his fit of temper against the elder Malfoy.

When he finished, Aurilia sighed. "What can I do about any of this, though? I'm not… _special_… like you."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his mom. "Mom? Yeah, you are. Don't you remember them wards around the home-place? An' the Book… Not to mention y'all c'n talk to Remus and Sirius, see what they come up with. I know we don't know all that much, but, I'm sure we can do _something_. Talk to Grandma, too. She might have somethin' that'll be helpful…"

Percy was thoughtful, not an unknown state for him to be in. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Just _why_ did you want me to know all this?"

"'Cause I trust you, an' Ginny's _your_ sister. I can't trust Fred and George not to make a joke out of this, an' Ron's just… I guess I mean, Ron's only a second-year, like me. You know more magic than we do…"

"Why not just speak with the headmaster?" Percy asked. "This plot obviously is, as you said, intended to bring harm to Hogwarts and its students."

"I know, I probably should, but… I just don't know iffen I c'n trust him to make use of the information. 'Sides, Sirius and Remus _did_ talk to him, but he ain't got back ta me 'bout any of it."

Percy looked shocked, "But, Harry, he's the headmaster of Hogwarts! Surely, he'd have to take any threat to the school seriously."

Harry shook his head, "Perce, you were _there_ in June. You _saw_ Voldemort stickin' out the back of Quirrell's head. If Dumbledore really were as all-knowing as he likes us ta think, wouldn't he've noticed that _before_ hirin' him? I realize Dumbledore means well, but, for all that y'all – the wizarding world, I mean – wanna think he's infallible, he ain't. He's still human, an' makes mistakes. He's claimed that there ain't no place safer than Hogwarts, but Voldemort _still_ found a way in."

"And you think _you_ can do better?" Percy sounded skeptical.

Harry shrugged, "Mayhap so, mayhap not. An' I _do_ plan on tellin' Dumbledore 'bout this when we get _to_ school, but… I dunno… I've got this weird feelin' that, whatever's goin' on, it won't matter none _what_ I tell the headmaster. It's gonna be like last year, me versus whatever that diary holds."

"I'll discuss this with Sirius and Remus, Harry." Aurilia said. She didn't have as high of an opinion of the headmaster as her son, and couldn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. "Little Bird, too, if you're not against it, and I'll also talk with A.J.'s Nana."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I still don't quite know why you wanted me to know, though." Percy finished his cup of tea.

"Well… Like I said, you're smart. You know more practical magic than I do. I'll get that damn diary from Ginny's things, an' we'll both take a look at it. 'Sides, didn't you wanna do somethin' with those hairs I got from Malfoy?"

Percy grinned, "Yeah, I do. Mrs. Brewer?"

"Aurilia, please."

"All right, Aurilia. Could you perchance get me a piece of cedar wood?" he gave her the dimensions of the piece he needed. "I'd prefer it come from your land, what I've got in mind will work better that way."

"And just what do you have in mind, Percy?" Aurilia asked, noting the size of the wood he needed on a small notepad she kept in her purse.

"I figure I'll be able to make another clock, only this one might help us figure out what's going on. Since your land recognizes Harry as a rightful resident, so will any of the trees on the land. Using wood from your land will help facilitate what I've in mind…"

Aurilia, who was no slouch in deducing things herself, smiled a little. "I think I get it, Percy. I'll make sure you get the wood by the end of the week. I'm sure there's a tree or two that could stand some thinning… Hmm… I may as well have the rest of the wood from that tree go to a good use… I think my closet could use some new paneling…"

"Thank you, Aurilia."

"Yeah, thanks, Mom."

Aurilia merely shook her head. "Don't worry about it, either of you." She sighed and shot a meaningful look at her son, "And as to you, young man, I trust you're going to keep a tighter leash on that temper? You said nothing, I notice, about that Logharf fellow."

"Lockhart," Harry corrected.

"Whatever," Aurilia replied.

"He _grabbed_ me, Mom, right out of line, like it was his right, or somethin'!"

"Don't let it happen again." In light of the rest of their conversation, Aurilia had decided to go easy on Harry – the kid really had too much else to be worrying about at that moment in time for her to want to add more.

"I promise, Mom, it won't."

"Good," she leaned down and hugged Harry. "I ought to be getting on home, luz. I'll keep you posted with what I find out."

"Me, too. See ya later." Aurilia gave her son a kiss on the top of his head before Harry opened the floo for her to go home.

When Percy and Harry returned to the living room, only Molly and Arthur were present. They both had expectant looks on their faces. Harry took a deep breath and began apologizing about losing his temper. When Molly asked him what sort of punishment Aurilia has imposed on Harry, he replied honestly, "Well… Mom made me promise it wouldn't happen again… Mrs. Weasley… He just up an' _grabbed_ me! I didn't know who he was, other than some famous writer or somethin'!" Molly still looked skeptical. Harry sighed and took out his wand and held it tightly. "If I'm lyin' may my magic leave me," a light gold light left the tip of his wand, circled him three times, and sank into his chest. Putting his wand away, he asked, "Does that help?"

"Very well, Harry." Molly was looking less perturbed. "It won't happen again?"

"No, ma'am."

"Go on up to Ron's room. We still need to talk to Percy."

Harry nodded and hurried up the stairs after casting an apologetic glance to Percy. Percy just shrugged as though to say, 'Don't worry. I won't let anything slip you don't want them to know.'

True to Aurilia's word, Percy received his piece of cedar wood a couple of days later. He, like Harry, had miraculously escaped any punishment by giving his word that he wouldn't act as rashly in the future. Percy packed the piece of wood into his trunk and told Harry that they'd best wait until they arrived at Hogwarts before working on it, as many of the spells involved would need to be adjusted before what he had in mind would work. Harry agreed, but only because he didn't want Ron or the twins to find out what they were working on. He didn't know if he could count on them to act maturely about the entire situation or not.

The end of summer vacation came too quickly for Harry's liking, but he was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts – if only to see if he could put an end to whatever nefarious plot had been set in motion. Obtaining the diary from Ginny had been relatively simple. The night before they were to leave for the Hogwarts Express, Harry hurriedly stashed his things into his trunk and went down to Ginny's room. He knocked and heard a faint, "Come in."

"Ev'nin', Ginny. Want any help? I'm already packed."

"Oh, hallo, Harry. Yeah, I think I could use some help," she gestured around her at the stacks of clothes and books and other miscellaneous whatnot. "I don't see how my brothers can take everything they do with them… the trunks just aren't big enough!"

Harry snickered. "Ya know, ya learn shrinkin' charms right before the end of first year, so that's prob'ly how. Iffen ya know what ya won't be needin' durin' the summer, ya can shrink it down an' have more space for when ya pack to go back."

"Makes sense. But, I still don't know what to leave behind…"

Harry started looking through the piles of assorted things. "Well, to start with, ya wanna make sure you've got all the stuff ya _need_ all packed. So, set your uniforms and the other stuff on your list to one side. I'll start puttin' things in your trunk for ya."

While Ginny started separating her clothes into a pile of uniforms and a pile of casual wear, Harry set to putting her schoolbooks in her trunk, making sure to pocket the diary when he came across it. Once Ginny had gotten all her clothes separated and her uniforms packed in the trunk, Harry took a look at the remaining piles of stuff. "Now, Ginny, ya don't really need all that much in the way of extra clothes. We're only allowed to wear casual stuff on the weekends, so you should only need a couple of shirts and jeans. It prob'ly wouldn't hurt to take a sweater or two, the dungeons are _damn_ cold in the winter."

Ginny looked a little daunted, "How do I decide what to take?"

Harry shrugged, "Pick your favorites. That's what I did, but then again, I also have a magic trunk – it holds a lot more than yours. You'll also wanna take somethin' to do in your spare time, but you don't need ta take all those games. The common room has a whole cupboard full of games an' puzzles."

"You're assuming I get sorted into Gryffindor." Ginny looked more anxious at that than at packing her trunk.

Harry smiled a little, "Ya know, I've got it on good authority that you'll get sorted based on your personality. From what I know of you, I don't think you'll go into Hufflepuff – you ain't as clueless as they tend ta be. You won't go into Ravenclaw, neither. I haven't seen ya readin' any more than me or Ron, an' ya just don't seem the type to like learnin' just for learnin's sake. An you're just too nice for Slytherin, so, yeah. I'm pretty sure ya will go to Gryffindor."

Ginny still didn't look convinced. "But, what if…"

Harry snorted, "Don't worry 'bout it. If you really wanna go to a particular house, the hat'll listen to ya. You may hafta argue with it, but it'll see reason."

"Hat?"

"How they sort ev'ryone."

"But… how do you know that arguing with it will do any good?"

Harry smirked a little. "'Cause _I_ did. Damn thing wanted to put me in Slytherin."

Ginny looked alarmed. "Slytherin?"

Harry shrugged, "I prob'ly wouldn't've argued with it iffen I hadn't met Draco Malfoy already. He's an idiot of the highest order. Their head of house, Professor Snape, ain't too bad a guy, once ya get ta know him a li'l. He likes to put on a show of bein' this badass, but… I can sorta see why. He teaches Potions," Ginny looked more alarmed than she had thus far. "Don't worry 'bout him none. He has ta be a little… standoffish. Like I said, he teaches Potions, an' that particular class can get really nasty if people don't pay attention to what they're doin'. Addin' the wrong ingredient at the wrong time can make things literally explode, so, yeah. I can see how he wants folks to be a little scared of him. Makes them pay attention to what they're doin' in class."

Ginny seemed to realize at that moment that her brothers likely had done something – specifically Ron and the twins – during class that would have been detrimental to their relationship with _that_ particular teacher. "What about the other teachers?" she asked, knowing that having another point of view would help.

"Well, there's Flitwick. He teaches Charms. He's pretty easy-goin', I don't think he assigned _anyone_ a detention last year. He's head of Ravenclaw. Hmm… I just realized somethin'."

"What's that?"

"Well, since he's head of Ravenclaw, he'd likely be the best to ask about homework trouble. He'd probably point you out to someone in Ravenclaw that can tutor you iffen you're really havin' trouble with somethin'. Sprout teaches Herbology, an' she's head of Hufflepuff. She's not too bad, either, just a little scatterbrained at times, or so _I_ think. I never really had any trouble with her – I've done a lot of gardening with my mom, an' takin' care of magical plants ain't all that different from takin' care of normal ones. However, _when_ you end up in Gryffindor, iffen y'all find ya having issues with her class, just talk to Neville Longbottom. He _really_ likes the class, an' got the highest score outta all the first years last year."

"What about the head of Gryffindor?"

"McGonagall?" Harry shrugged, "She's kinda strict, but I've got the impression that she's really a big softie once ya get past her shell."

Ginny smiled, obviously more at-ease than she'd been previously. They quickly finished packing her trunk and headed down to dinner. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself, and Harry realized about halfway through the meal that she and his mom were obviously trading recipes; the meatloaf was almost identical to his mom's. After dinner, the twins let off a bunch of wizarding fireworks that bounced around the kitchen for a good thirty minutes before everyone was treated to one last mug of hot chocolate and sent to bed.

The next morning was more than a little chaotic. Mrs. Weasley was dashing hither and yon looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with pieces of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck tripping over a chicken as he crossed the yard, carrying Ginny's trunk to the car. Harry, upon seeing the Ford Anglia that belonged to the Weasley family, was at a loss to understand how eight people, let alone their luggage, were going to be able to fit into the tiny car. He was helping Arthur pack their luggage into the trunk when he noticed that it seemed to be a _lot_ bigger on the inside than it should.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harry.

"Of course, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, grinning.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably. "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry turning back for one last look at the house. He barely had time to wonder when he'd get to visit again when they were back. George had forgotten his box of Filibuster Fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. By the time they were well and truly ready to head out, they were running very late. Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch, then at his wife. "Molly, dear – "

"No, Arthur."

"No one would see; this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed. That one will get us up in the air, then we could fly above the clouds. We'd be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser –"

"I said no, Arthur, not in broad daylight."

Harry made a mental note of their conversation and resolved to look into the charms and spells Arthur had to have used on his car. An invisibility booster on his plane would be _really_ cool… Not to mention that he wasn't at all sure that the Anglia ran on ordinary gas… He knew they drove for quite a while and the gas-gauge on the dash hadn't moved at all.

* * *

**A/N2:** Harry's band is mostly going to be doing covers of the old rock'n'roll songs, but they will also have a handful of original music - I think I've an alternative rock, a country, and a hard rock song written up - so, if that makes any difference on potential names, there ya go. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I've had a couple of reviewers express concern about how Harry is acting in this story. I'd like to take a moment to address these concerns: Harry is _twelve_. He can and will make mistakes in judgment. He is likewise trying to figure out how to be as independent in the magical world as he is in the muggle world, but doesn't seem to be having much luck with that because of the nature of things that keep happening to him. He also isn't telling his mom every detail of what's happening to him, because he doesn't want her to worry and he also doesn't want her to pull him out of Hogwarts. Will this come back to bite him in the ass? Yes, but not for a while yet. I would like to mention that I don't write out every detail of what Harry does, so when I have him doing something I've not fully explained, please take it as read that Harry (most likely) read about whatever spell he's using.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Back to School**

When they arrived at Kings Cross, they only had a few minutes to get their things unloaded from the car and through the station to platform nine and three-quarters. As it was, they just barely made it – the warning whistle from the scarlet locomotive was just blowing when the last of them jumped onto the train. "That was close," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, nodding. "Wonder what woulda happened iffen we'd missed the train?"

"Dunno," Ron replied, leading the way through the mass of students, looking for Hermione, Neville, Dean, or Seamus. "Probably best that we didn't have to find out."

They located their friends in the same compartment they'd ridden in on the trip back from Hogwarts at the end of first year. It also happened to be the same compartment wherein Harry and Ron had rode to Hogwarts precisely one year earlier. The six Gryffindors spent the trip chatting about their summers, reminiscing about Harry and Neville's birthday party, and eating sweets from the trolley. When they were most of the way to Hogwarts, the door to their compartment opened to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy, flanked, as always, by his goonish bookends.

Before the blonde could even utter what would have no doubt been some derisive comment to someone in the compartment, Harry rolled his eyes. "Not today, Krätze. _Petrificus totalus!_" Draco snapped into a living log and fell backwards out of the doorway to the compartment, landing on Goyle's toes. Harry reached up and slid the door shut. "Now, what were you saying, Neville?"

The others in the compartment just started laughing.

When they reached Hogwarts, the six of them managed to secure a carriage to themselves. Harry wondered briefly just why the carriages had harnesses if they didn't have any animals pulling them. Reaching the school, they followed the crowd of students into the Great Hall and took their seats. Harry noticed that someone must have taken pity on Malfoy, as he was back to his annoying self. "Pity," Hermione said. "That really was a great petrificus."

Harry shrugged, "Oh, well. Mayhap next time, yeah?"

His friends snickered and waited for Dumbledore to signal McGonagall to let the first-years in. _The sorting seems shorter this year,_ Harry thought. _But, then again, _I_ ain't one of the ones waitin' in line this time around._ When Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor, Hermione and Neville made room for her between them. She was directly across the table from Ron and Harry. Seamus was on the other side of Hermione and Dean was on the other side of Harry. Harry grinned at Ginny, "Told ya so."

Ginny giggled, "Yeah. Guess you did at that."

Dumbledore then stood and began his normal – or so Harry was coming to realize – beginning-of-the-year-pre-dinner speech. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin what will undoubtably be a fantastic meal, I would like to say just a couple of words. Acetylsalicylic acid. Thank you."

"Does he do that every year?" Hermione asked one of the fifth-years sitting just down the table from their little group.

The older boy nodded, "Yeah. I think he just likes they way some words sound. Why he insists on telling everyone, though, I've no idea."

Harry shrugged and chalked it up to that suspicion he had that the headmaster was purposefully cultivating an eccentric façade. He had no doubts at all that he wasn't quite as unconventional as he pretended. _Then again, he _could_ be that odd… Just look at his wardrobe._ Dumbledore was wearing a set of purple-black robes that seemed to be twinkling. Harry was pretty sure if he was closer to the headmaster, the twinkles on the robes would likely be stars.

When dinner was done, Albus stood once more and introduced Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The majority of the hall broke into loud applause. Harry merely shook his head in exasperation, mainly because Hermione was one of the ones cheering the loudest. Ron nudged him and Harry politely started clapping. "Iffen he tries anythin' in class like what he did in the store, I'm gonna break his wrist," Harry muttered.

"Don't be daft, Harry," Ron whispered back. "You can't go around breaking professors' bones. Look on the upside, at least you know _he_ doesn't have You-Know-Who sticking out of his head."

Harry scoffed, "I dunno… It'd be kinda hard to tell under all that hair."

Ron snickered and Hermione, who had heard the last part of their conversation, shot Ron a dirty look. When the applause died down, the headmaster conducted the school song and then dismissed everyone to their common rooms. Just outside the Great Hall, the Gryffindor prefects circulated among the students for their house, reminding everyone of curfew and letting them know that the password was 'wattlebird.'

Percy tapped Harry's shoulder as everyone was getting ready to disburse for the evening, "Meet me in that empty classroom between the library and the charms corridor."

Harry nodded before turning to his group of friends, "Hey, guys?"

"Yeah?" Seamus replied.

"I'm gonna head to the library and double-check a couple of things on my Potions essay. I'll be up in a bit."

Hermione perked up at that, "Oh, do you mind if I come, too?"

Harry shrugged, "Be my guest."

Hermione, predictably, followed Harry towards the library. About halfway there, though, Harry ducked into an unused classroom, pulling Hermione along with him. "Harry!"

"Shh!" Harry laid a finger across her lips. "Not yet."

A couple of minutes later, Percy walked in. "Good, you're already here."

Harry nodded and began casting silencing and privacy spells. Percy did likewise, and after a moment, Hermione added a couple of the more obscure ones she had read about. "What's this all about, then?" she asked, tucking her wand back into her sleeve.

Harry sat on a dusty desk and explained what he'd learned from Dobby on his birthday. Hermione absorbed the details of the plot with her normal sponge-like capacity. "And just why is Percy here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

Hermione glanced at him and saw that the redhead was rather affronted by her comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything bad by that, I just meant that Harry really should be telling all this to the headmaster, not us."

The statement seemed to calm Percy somewhat, "Well, he's going to," he leveled a meaningful gaze at Harry. "But, I had an idea about how we could keep an eye on things, so-to-speak."

"The headmaster, I'm sure, is more than capable of looking after the school," Hermione replied, somewhat dryly.

Harry shook his head, "Hermione, do you _remember_ last June?"_ Didn't I have this exact same conversation recently?  
_

Hermione shrugged, "Those were extraordinary circumstances."

"Still, Dumbledore _wasn't _able to keep it from happenin'," Harry countered. "Think about what happened, Hermione. _Really_ think about it. You _know_ my scar hurt every time Quirrell met my eyes, ever since that first night, an' that means that he had to have had Voldemort in him all that time, but Dumbledore didn't know – or iffen he did, he didn't _do anything_ about it!

"Percy's right, I _will_ tell Dumbledore about this, but… Can't you see the logic in havin' as many eyes watchin' for weird shit as possible?"

Hermione seemed to deflate a little. "I suppose I can… What did you have in mind, Percy?"

Percy took a deep breath and started pacing, "Well… I'm really good at charms. When I was in fourth year, I did an extra-credit project for Professor Flitwick and crafted a family clock."

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"It's a clock that has a hand for each member of a family. Instead of telling the time, though, it will show you roughly what any particular member of a family is doing. Where the numbers are on a normal clock, it's got things like 'traveling,' 'at home,' 'at school,' or 'mortal peril.'" Percy appeared to have a habit of gesturing with his hands when he was explaining something he knew well.

Hermione jumped to the logical conclusion, "So, you propose crafting another clock, only this one will be for Lucius Malfoy?"

Percy nodded, "Sort of. I had Harry's mum get me some of the wood from her land – cedar, specifically – because it would be more inclined to want to help Harry than just a random bit of wood from a store. Remember that fight at the bookshop?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Like I'm going to forget _that_ anytime soon."

"You saw Harry here pull that bow from Lucius' hair, right?" She nodded. "Well, he managed to save a couple of the hairs. In order to activate a normal family clock, all the family members have to donate a strand of hair."

"I still don't see how making a clock like you've described is going to help with this situation, Percy. What good is monitoring Lucius' location going to be if he's already got that diary of his _here_?"

Harry cleared his throat, "I've got the diary in my trunk. It'd been tucked into one of Ginny's books – I helped her pack last night."

Hermione closed her eyes, "You might have mentioned that."

"Sorry."

"But still, what use is that clock going to be?"

Percy produced some parchment notes from his pocket and spread them on the desk next to where Harry was sitting, "What I planned to do is alter the charms that go into making the clock. Instead of having it track location, I was going to see if we can get it to divulge information."

Hermione's interest perked back up, "Oh? How are we going to do that?"

"Well, I wanted to have the face of the clock display the alphabet and maybe a 'yes' and 'no.' Then, if we can alter the charms enough, we should be able to ask the clock questions, and since it will be keyed to Lucius Malfoy, it should respond with the correct answers."

Though this was new information to Harry, he tried not to let it show on his face. _I wonder if Professor Snape would be able to help with this? He seemed to know a helluva lot about magic in general when he visited last summer. Wonder what he found out about them wards on the home-place?_ Harry pulled himself out of his musing and started looking over Percy's notes with Hermione. Since charms wasn't precisely his best class, he asked a couple of clarifying questions – most of them had to do with the nature of charms he and Hermione hadn't yet reached in Flitwick's classes. Hermione though, didn't seem to have any difficulty at all in understanding the notes of the sixth-year. When Harry realized that, he wondered just how far ahead of the class she was in Charms. _Probably as far ahead as I am in potions and Neville is in Herbology._ Being naturally intelligent could only do so much, it really helped when one was interested in a particular topic. Harry liked potions simply because he found them easy – be it because of his mom's fascination with herbal medicine, his cooking skill, or simply because he enjoyed tinkering in a laboratory, he didn't know. Probably some combination of all three.

By the time the three of them were done going over Percy's preliminary notes, Hermione's wristwatch was showing five minutes to curfew. Percy tucked his notes back into his pocket and led the two second-years back to Gryffindor Tower. When Harry arrived in his dorm, he found that most of his roommates were already asleep. "Finished checking your essay?" Ron asked, though his tone was a little stiff.

"Yeah, glad I did, too. Had a couple of points wrong, so I fixed 'em," Harry replied.

"Funny," Ron said, "you didn't take your essay with you."

Harry grimaced, thankful the room was dark and that he wasn't facing his friend. _Damnit, I overlooked that…_ Out loud, he chuckled, "Yeah, I did. Had it in my pocket. Gave it to Hermione to look over for me, so I don't have it right now. Iffen I'd known you wanted ta read it, I'd've kept it."

Ron sighed, "No, I didn't need to see it, Harry. I just thought that…" his voice trailed off.

"Thought what, Ron?"

"Well… Hermione went with you and… Look, never mind, okay? Sorry I was snippy."

Harry suddenly understood. "Forget about it. Goodnight, Ron."

"'Night, Harry."

Harry waited until Ron was safely asleep before laughing hysterically into a silence-charmed pillow. _So Ron's got a crush on Hermione, does he?_ It took nearly an hour for him to calm down enough to go to sleep.

* * *

**A/N2:** There ya go, folks, an' thanks for reading! 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

I am also not Garth Brooks, nor am I affiliated with him in any way, shape, or form.

**A/N:** Thanks again to all my readers - you're why this series is getting posted now, rather than in a year's time.

* * *

**Chapter Five: A Bad Day**

The next day, Harry accompanied Seamus and Dean to breakfast; Neville, Ron, and Hermione had already headed down. A quick glance at the ceiling revealed the day to be overcast and threatening rain. Harry sighed when he saw breakfast waiting for them. _Fish? For _breakfast_? And _tomatoes_? I already miss _real_ food… Cornbread slathered in butter and honey… Real milk, not this thin stuff… And what's with pumpkin juice morning, noon, and night? Do the cooks have something against oranges?_ He sighed again and helped himself to a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. _What I wouldn't give for some fried ham, or decent sausage, or a good, thick breakfast steak, nicely pink in the middle…_ "Morning, all."

A round of 'morning, Harry's sounded from Ginny, who was perusing her class schedule; Hermione, who was reading Voyages With Vampires; and Neville, who was still trying to tie his tie. "Mail's due any minute," he said after giving up on the tie for the time-being. "Gran should be sending whatever I forgot _this_ time."

"Why don't you just get a clip-on?" Harry asked around a mouthful of toast.

"Huh?" Neville looked confused. "What's a clip-on?"

"It's a tie that's always tied right," Harry explained, "only it doesn't go around your neck. There's a little metal prong on the back of the knot that clips to your shirt."

"Oh… Do you know where I can get one?" Neville asked hopefully. A couple of the other Gryffindors who had heard the comment also looked interested.

Harry shrugged, "Not sure… I'll check around for ya, though."

"Thanks."

Any further conversation was halted by the arrival of the mail. Sure enough, Neville received a small package from his gran – it turned out to be his quills. Two owls landed in front of Harry, as well as a large red-tail hawk. Harry took the letters they carried. The first owl had a letter from A.J., the second had one from his mom, and the hawk had a small package from his grandma Little Bird – Dave's and Jim's mother.

He opened the one from A.J. first. It was just a normal correspondence between them, and didn't contain anything of any real importance. He handed it to Ron to read when he finished with it. The letter from his mom wasn't very long either, and said that she hoped he'd reached school without any problems, cautioned him again to keep hold of his temper, and also mentioned that she'd talked with Little Bird, Remus, and Sirius about the information from Dobby, but hadn't yet had the chance to speak with Nana about it. She promised more information when they thought of something. Remus had included a P.S. that told him to talk to Dumbledore. Harry rolled his eyes at that and tucked the letter into his pocket before turning to the parcel the hawk had brought him. _Wonder how Grandma figured to send me this by bird?_ He stripped the brown paper off of the box and opened it. There was a letter sitting on top of a book and some odds and ends. Harry picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter.

_August 30, 1992  
Dear Harry,_

_I got an interesting phone call from your mom last night. I think you know what about. I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'll do my best. To be blunt, you are not the first wizard I've known, and a friend of mine promised to magic this package to you so that you'd have it as soon as possible._

_You and I both know that me and your dad and mom and David aren't magical by your way of figuring, we're what wizards call 'muggles.' That doesn't mean we're completely helpless, you realize. David spoke with me last fall – and yes, he has talked with me since! – and told me about the wards that surround your home. I have to say it doesn't surprise me at all. There is so much out there that can't be explained by either science __or__ magic that I truly believe __anything__ is possible. In that vein, I've sent you a few things that I've found to be helpful when examining problems._

_Firstly, the round hoop with the feathers and what looks like spider-webbing is a dream-catcher, only this one was made especially for the problem your mom described to me. It should help your dreams find answers to the issue that you'd not previously considered. I made a similar one for a problem I'd been having in my own life and it worked like a charm (you have my permission to laugh at that, if you want!)_

_The second thing I've packed in the box for you is a dream-pillow. That's the little leather pouch that smells funny. Don't open it. Put it in your pillowcase and it should augment the dream-catcher's effects._

_The last bits and pieces are silver wire and turquoise. I know your mom said you've got quite a number of friends, so I hope I packed enough so that you can make a ring or pendant for each of them. Turquoise wards off evil spirits, and according to my wizard friend, that's more than just tradition speaking. Apparently, when worn by a witch or wizard it should change color from its normal greenish-blue to a red if you're in danger. I don't know for sure if that's accurate, but my friend did assure me it was so._

_In any case, I hope you manage to solve this without any problems._

_Love,  
Little Bird_

_P.S. When are you going to convince your folks that you need to come visit, hmm?_

There was a silly little smiley-face drawn after the P.S. Harry grinned, _Some things never change._ He looked through the items his grandma sent and resolved to look up turquoise in the library during lunch. "What'd you get?" Dean asked.

"Some stuff from my dad's mom," Harry replied, closing the box. "I'm gonna run this up to the dorm. What class do we have first?"

"Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs," Hermione replied absently, still reading her book.

"Thanks," Harry picked up the box and hurried first to the Tower, and then to class. He arrived just in time to find that they were working in greenhouse three. Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair and usually had a large amount of dirt on her robes and under her fingernails. The class, murmuring interestedly – they'd only ever worked in greenhouse one before, three had much more dangerous and interesting plants – followed their cheerful teacher. She stopped at the door and unlocked it with a key from her belt. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heady scent of giant flowers that dangled from the ceiling.

Professor Sprout took her place behind a trestle table in the center of the greenhouse. Approximately twenty or so pairs of multi-colored earmuffs were lying on the bench. By the time that Harry, Ron, and Neville were in their customary place across the table from Dean, Seamus, and Hermione, Professor Sprout was saying, "We'll be repotting mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, both Hermione and Neville's hands were immediately raised. Sprout indicated that Hermione should take the question. "Mandrake, or mandragora, is a powerful restorative," she recited, sounding more and more like she was turning into a walking textbook. "It's used to restore people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, highly dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?"

Again, Neville and Hermione's hands were both in the air. This time, Neville answered the question. "The cry of the mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Correct," Sprout smiled at everyone. "Take another ten points for Gryffindor. "Now, the mandrakes we have are still very young – hardly more than seedlings." She indicated a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled for a better look. A hundred or so purplish-green plants were growing in rows. Harry quirked an eyebrow, _Those don't look nothin' like the mandrake that grows back home._ He raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Brewer?"

"How come they don't look like the mandrake that grows back home?"

"I assume you mean in Iowa?" Harry nodded, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. "How are they different?"

"Well, ma'am, the mandrake that grows back home is a really vivid, dark green, and has two large leaves on either side of a solitary stalk. The leaves are umbrella-like an' another name for it is 'umbrella plant,' though Mom usually calls it either 'mandrake' or 'Mayapple.'"

Sprout, who had closed her eyes to picture Harry's description, opened them and smiled brightly at Harry, "Ah, that would be American Mandrake," she replied. "It's a different species, though it can be used similarly, it isn't quite as powerful as European Mandrake, which is what we're working with."

"Oh," Harry said. "Thanks."

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout, getting on with the lesson. There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. "When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely_ covered," Professor Sprout warned. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you a thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on!"

Harry snapped a dark blue pair of earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. _What I would have given to have a pair of these right after Cy was born! _Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the plants firmly, and pulled hard. Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs. _I think I understand now about the mandrake back home not being as powerful…_

Professor Sprout took a large earthenware pot from under the table and plunged the mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all a thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs. "As our Mandrakes are still so small, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray. There is a large supply of pots here, compost is in the sacks over there. Oh, and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething." She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron, and Neville were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to. "Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Brewer... And you're Neville Longbottom, always top in this class," Neville smiled at the praise as he had his hand shaken, too. " – And you're Ron Weasley. Your older brothers are the Gryffindor beaters, aren't they?" Ron didn't smile. Harry could tell that the Hufflepuff boy's demeanor was starting to wear rather thin. "That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - _zap_ - just fantastic!" Any lingering doubt Harry had about the overly cheerful Hufflepuff's mental status was thoroughly decimated with the Lockhart-praise.

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…" Harry tuned the chattering boy out and focused on his work. He, Ron, and Neville were all sending one another furtive glances every time the boy took another breath. 'Will he ever shut up?' Neville mouthed, much to Harry's and Ron's amusement. Justin didn't catch it, he was still babbling on and on about how much he enjoyed Hogwarts.

'You'd think he was a first-year,' Ron mouthed back. The three of them dissolved into giggles simultaneously.

Justin didn't think anything about that, just kept on talking, "I know! I thought it was funny, too, how she – "

Any further conversation was halted by Professor Sprout who told them to put their earmuffs back on and concentrate on moving the mandrakes to their new pots. Harry, Ron, and Neville shared a relieved look amongst themselves. As to the mandrakes, they didn't seem to want to come out of their old pots, nor go into their new ones. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their tiny fists, and gnashed their teeth. A line from a Garth Brooks song he'd heard on the radio that summer floated through Harry's head, _We come in kickin' giddy-up and go out hollerin' whoa._ It took him a full fifteen minutes to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the time class ended, everyone was sweaty, aching, and covered in dirt. The class traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration. In Professor McGonagall's class they were working on the practical aspect of some of the theory they had covered the previous year, and were turning beetles into buttons. Harry and Hermione got into a friendly competition to see who could come up with the ugliest button. Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Ron all said that Hermione won when she made one button look almost exactly like Draco Malfoy's face. "No fair!" Harry snickered in mock-outrage. "That was cheating!"

"Only because you didn't think of it," Hermione retorted.

"Yeah, mayhap so," Harry shrugged, grinning.

After Transfiguration was over with, they all went down to lunch. "What do we have this afternoon?" Neville asked, loading his plate with fish and French fries. Harry just shook his head when he was informed that they were called 'chips.' When he asked, he found that what he knew as 'chips' were called 'crisps.'

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione replied to Neville's question, inspecting her schedule as she did so.

"Why," Ron asked, looking over her shoulder, "have you outlined all Lockhart's classes in little hearts?"

Hermione didn't reply, merely tucked her schedule back in her pocket and changed the subject, blushing a little.

When they finished eating, the group of second-year Gryffindors went outside to enjoy a little fresh air, despite the overcast sky. Hermione took a seat on a stone step and immediately immersed herself in Voyages with Vampires again. Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville were discussing quidditch. Harry sat a little behind Hermione and looked over her shoulder. _It was not a dark and stormy night, merely clear and cold, as is normal for November - the mountains of Transylvania are not by their nature a warm place, even during the summer months. I had just finished a small celebration of my thirtieth birthday, and was leaving the pub with friends when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up…_

Harry snorted, "Now I _know_ he's an idiot."

Hermione marked her page and glared at Harry. "He's a professor, Harry."

"So was Quirrell," Harry pointed out, then re-opened Hermione's book. "See here?" He tapped the paragraph he'd read over her shoulder.

"So?"

"You ain't read Year with the Yeti, have you?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not fully, not yet. Why? What's that to do with anything?"

"I only got halfway through it before I quit reading that nonsense and read the books Professor Snape recommended. Anyway, in chapter six of Year with the Yeti, he mentions bein' in the Himalayas for his thirtieth birthday, not Transylvania. Either he's not normal an' can have more than one birthday for the same age, or he's a _total _moron."

"He could just not want people to know how old he really is."

Harry rolled his eyes. "If that was the case, why didn't he just _not_ mention how old he was, hmm?"

"I don't know, maybe he had his reasons." Harry just shook his head. Hermione continued defending Lockhart. "It could have been a typo, too." She could tell her arguments were falling on deaf ears. "Fine! I'll prove it. May take me a week or two, but I'll do it." With that, she tore her book out of Harry's grasp and produced some parchment and a quill from her bag. Harry watched her for a couple of minutes as she flipped back to the first page of the book and began writing down notes.

She frowned once, and scrawled a note next to the date she'd just written down that Harry saw read '_Check June 15__th__, 1985 in __Werewolves_' He didn't get the chance to see what the rest of her note for that date consisted of, as he suddenly realized he was being watched rather intently. He looked up and saw a small, mousy-haired boy staring at him from only a couple of yards away. He was clutching a yellow plastic camera. Harry vaguely recognized him from the sorting the night before.

Noticing that Harry had noticed him, the boy tentatively strode a little closer, "All right, Harry? I'm Colin Creevey," he said somewhat breathlessly. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think – Would it be all right if – Can I have a picture?" he asked, raising the camera.

"A picture? What for?"

"So I can prove I've met you," Colin replied eagerly, coming ever closer to Harry and Hermione. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me about how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead –" Colin's eyes flickered to Harry's scar, "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll _move_." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic until I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you." He cast a begging look at Harry. "Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you?"

Harry held up his hand to halt the excitable first-year. "Hold up, kid. Take a breath 'fore ya fall over." Colin did as Harry said and took several deep breaths. "As to a picture… Well, I don't see how that could be all that bad. I ain't gonna sign it, though, so don't ask."

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos?" Draco Malfoy's voice was loud and scathing, and echoed around the nearly-empty courtyard. He strolled up to right behind Colin, Crabbe and Goyle standing, as always, just behind and to either side of the Slytherin blonde.

"Krätze, iffen you're havin' trouble remembering what I did to you on the train, I'd be pleased to give you a repeat performance." Harry smiled mockingly at Draco.

Draco sneered back, "I'm not the one giving out signed photos, _Potter_."

Harry slowly got to his feet, his eyes glinting merrily. "Still havin' trouble with my name, huh? Well, I suppose it ain't gonna help none if I get angry at ya. You can't help bein' slow. I hear it's a side-effect of cousins marrying."

Draco didn't seem to understand the reference. He opened his mouth to say something, but Colin beat him to it. "You're just jealous," the first-year said.

"Jealous?" Malfoy replied. "Of what? I don't want a hideous scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you all that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered stupidly.

Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean were no longer talking amongst themselves. In fact, they'd stopped chatting when they'd heard Draco Malfoy's voice from across the courtyard. All four of them were surreptitiously holding their wands out of sight, just in case.

"Krätze, I ain't special 'cause of this scar," he tapped said scar. "Just like you ain't special 'cause you got a rich daddy. An' – correct me if I'm wrong here – but talkin' of your dad, didn't he get his ass beat this summer?" Draco flushed and began sputtering. Harry continued, "An' – again, correct me if I'm wrong – wasn't it _me_ who did that? Seems ta me, Krätze, that even someone as thick as y'all should be able ta figure this out. But, apparently not, so I'll say it clear for ya. Leave Me Alone. Leave My Friends Alone. You Don't Want Me For Your Enemy. After all, Krätze, iffen I can beat your dad so easily, just _imagine_ what I could do to _you_." Harry gave a rather feral grin to the Slytherins.

Draco's rage melted away as he rapidly paled and scurried off, his bodyguards trailing behind him. Hermione snapped her book shut and tucked it into her bag. "You really need to stop antagonizing him, Harry."

Harry grinned, "Why? It's fun, and it ain't like he can do anything about it."

"It's still wrong. He can't help being a selfish little worm."

Just then, a voice Harry loathed even more than Draco's sounded from right behind the group of Gryffindors. "What's all this, then?" Gilderoy Lockhart was standing on the steps. "Who's giving out signed photos?" Harry started to reply, hoping that maybe he'd read the man wrong and he really _wasn't _ a total idiot. His hopes were shattered when the man flashed his perfect teeth and made to sling an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry ducked, causing the man to stumble a little. "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Harry backed away from the Pfauhahn. "So it seems," Harry replied dryly.

"And Mr. Creevey," the professor turned his smile to the impressionable first-year. "If Harry there would be so kind as to join me, we could provide you with a double-portrait! Can't do much better than that, and we'll _both_ sign it for you."

Harry leveled a glare at the Pfauhahn. "Colin, I'll see you back in the Tower tonight." Colin nodded, wondering what was going on. Harry turned to his friends, "Come on, guys. I don't think I'm needin' as much fresh air as I thought."

"Yeah, mate," Seamus said, peering at the sky. "Looks like rain, too."

Doing his best to ignore the Pfauhahn, Harry and his friends hurried back into the castle. "Noticed you didn't say nothin' about Lockhart," Harry mentioned to Hermione while they navigated the halls to the Defense classroom. Hermione was stubbornly silent. "Could it be you're thinkin' mayhap I'm right about that Pfauhahn?"

Hermione stopped and turned to face Harry, "Just drop it for now, Harry. I mean it. I need to look up a few facts, and then I'll let you know."

She whirled around and hurried ahead of everyone to class. "You _are_ right, I can tell." Dean said as Harry caught up with the group.

"Oh? How?" Ron asked.

"Didn't you notice how flustered Hermione got when she was writing down her notes out in the courtyard? And, if she thought she was right, don't you think she'd just tell Harry so, rather than research it to death?"

Ron and Neville chuckled. Harry looked ahead to the classroom door and grimaced. "Scheisse!" The Pfauhahn was already at the class and was standing, sentinel-like, next to the door.

"What _is_ your problem with the professor, mate?" Seamus quietly asked.

Harry angrily hissed, "He's a damn Pfauhahn idiot who don't seem ta know when to keep his damn hands to himself, that's what!"

"Sorry I asked," Seamus replied. "Sheesh."

Harry dropped behind Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean, hoping to be able to bypass the professor's notice. No such luck, though. Just as he was about to follow them through the doorway, Lockhart grabbed Harry's elbow and pulled him aside. "A word to the wise, Harry," he said quietly, watching as another knot of students filed into the classroom, "handing out signed photographs at this stage of your career isn't sensible. It makes you look a tad big-headed, to be quite frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but –" he flashed his toothy grin, "I don't think you're there just yet."

All while Lockhart was talking, Harry was imagining various ways to break the man's nose. When the professor reached the end of his spiel, Harry jerked his arm out of the man's grip. "As you're my prof now," Harry ground out, "I s'pose I can't be removin' your hand like I promised in the bookstore. However, Professor Pfauhahn, I ain't got the reputation for followin' the rules, so I just might hafta rethink permanently maiming you iffen you _ever _touch me again." Here Harry gave Lockhart the same grin that had sent Malfoy running earlier, "You might think you're somethin' special, Professor Pfauhahn, but you might wanna remember that I _killed_ your predecessor in office, an' I'm _still here_. You think anyone's gonna say 'boo' iffen I _did_ remove an appendage or two?" He pointed to his chest, "I'm the 'Boy-Who-Lived,' after all – stood face-to-face with Voldemort himself, _twice_ – and _you're_ just a hack writer. Who do _you_ think Dumblesdore'll believe?"

Leaving the professor looking like a beached carp, Harry hurried into the classroom, relieved to see that his friends – even Hermione – had saved him a seat at the very back. He busied himself stacking all seven of the Pfauhahn's books in front of him, just to avoid looking at the real thing for as long as possible. Once the bells rang to signal the start of the class, the professor entered, closing the door behind him.

Lockhart needlessly cleared his throat to gain the students' attention. He picked up Parvati's copy of Travels with Trolls, holding it up to show his own portrait on the slipcover. "Me," he said, pointing to the photo. Harry was a touch disgusted that both the photo-Pfauhahn and the flesh-Pfauhahn winked simultaneously. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most-Charming-Smile Award.

"But, I don't want to talk about that." At this point, Seamus sneezed something that sounded suspiciously like 'bullshite.' Lockhart didn't miss a beat. "Bless you," he nodded towards Seamus before continuing, "I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" He paused for them to laugh, which several people did; namely Harry's friends – excluding Hermione – but not at the professor's lame joke, merely at Seamus' unnoticed insult to the man.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done! I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Now, it's nothing to worry about, I just want to check how well you've read them; how much you've taken in." When he hand handed out the test papers, he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. You may begin."

Harry flipped his test over and saw:

_Name:_

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over both sides of the paper, right down to number 54: _When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

Harry massaged his temples. He was really starting to hate the professor. He filled in 'Brewer' next to the name request and set to filling in his own answers for the quiz.

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?_

_Clear, like any bottle-blonde. Honestly, I've nothing against bleached hair, but he really needs to go in for a touch up. His roots are showing._

_2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_To finally learn how to tie his shoes._

_3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

_Mastering the sacred Chinese art of breathing with his mouth closed. Unfortunately, he often chooses to hide this talent by talking about himself at all times._

While Harry was filling out his 'quiz,' he was overcome by a sudden attack of the giggles. He managed to cover it superbly by quietly silence-charming his sleeve. He was particularly proud of his response to number fifty-four: _I am beyond dismayed that some portion of my brain has found it prudent to store the Pfauhahn's birthday, which falls in November. However, I feel I should point out that it isn't __normal__ for someone to have two birthdays for the same age – I was unaware a wizard could apparate from the Himalayas to Transylvania, though I __do__ know that the wait-list for an international portkey is two to five days. As to the ideal gift… I know! Someone to finally realize he left his brain behind whilst apparating and to go retrieve it for him, provided, of course, that whoever goes after it realizes it's a fool's quest – as his behavior shows, it was obviously eaten by a rabid bear._

Half an hour later, Professor Pfauhahn collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. "Tut, tut. Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples, though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face, Seamus and Dean were shaking with silent laughter, and Neville looked like he was chewing a hole right through his lip in effort not to burst out laughing. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention – nothing new, it _was_ class, after all – and gave a start when he mentioned her name. "…but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good girl! In fact," he flipped her paper over and quickly scanned it, "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised her hand. "Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business!" He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it. "Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. _Wonder what he's got in there? A fifty-pound turkey? A baby velociraptor? Knowing him, probably some poor witch's lost cat…_ Harry hid a snicker in his silenced sleeve. _Hmm… Might have to keep this sleeve. Comes in handy, don't it? _Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes," he said dramatically, "Freshly caught Cornish pixies!" Seamus couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" Lockhart smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not all that dangerous, are they?" Seamus replied.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of arguing birds – _Or that time A.J. and I were breathing the helium out of balloons and she tried to sound angry. I think I _still_ have a sprained muscle from laughing that time… _The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" He opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

"How, Professor Pfauhahn? Y'all ain't taught _how_, yet! Wouldn't've it been wise to teach us _how to catch the damn things _BEFORE you let them loose!" Harry shouted from under his desk.

"Right, right," Lockhart ducked a flying book. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dove under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Neville, and Hermione, who were almost to the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you _believe_ him?" Neville growled, slapping a pixie that was about to bite him on the nose.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever freezing charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands-on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a _clue_ what he was doin'!"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done!"

"He _says_ he's done," Harry retorted. "You still gonna give them books a closer look-see, yeah? Mayhap iffen ya see it for yourself, you'll believe me!" Harry's hand shot out and seized a pixie out of midair. _At least I know my quidditch training's not going to waste._

It took Hermione, Neville, and Harry the better part of three hours to finish removing the pixies from the room and either returning them to their cage or making sure they were outside while Hermione repaired the windows. They finished just in time to hurry to dinner – had it taken any longer, none of them would have eaten that night.

Harry stopped short at the sight of the dishes on the table. He groaned. _Not again!_ "You okay, Harry?" Ginny asked from nearby.

Harry sighed and shook his head, "I need _real_ food, not livers and kidneys and spleens or whatever other internal organs y'all seem to think are edible. Where're Fred and George?"

"Down there, with the other quidditch players. Why?"

Harry smiled broadly, "Because, if anyone knows how to find the kitchens, it's them. See ya later, Ginny." He hurried to about midway down the long Gryffindor table. True to Ginny's word, Fred and George were sitting with Katie and Angelina; Lee Jordan, Alicia, and Oliver Wood were sitting across the table.

"Hey, Harry!" Fred shoved Angelina down the bench a little, "Have a seat!"

Harry shook his head, "Not here to talk quidditch, guys. You think I can borrow the twins for a while?" he asked the rest of the team. Receiving no arguments, he motioned for the twins to follow him. When they were just outside the double-doors, he turned to them and asked, "How do I find the kitchens?"

"Harry, you know dinner's just through there, right?" George said.

"That's not dinner. That's what you feed the dog to keep her from begging at the table. I want _real _food."

Fred and George shared a look. Fred tucked an arm around Harry's waist and George draped an arm over his shoulders. "Come on, then, Harry. It's this way." They lead him down some stairs, through numerous corridors, finally stopping in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit. "Just tickle the pear to get in. The elves'll probably be really happy to see you."

Before Harry could ask anything else, the twins had disappeared. Harry sighed and tentatively tickled the pear. It giggled, and the painting swung forward, revealing a large open area, most of which was filled with replicas of the house tables. Harry realized that he was directly beneath the Great Hall.

There were dozens of house elves rushing around, filling bowls, cleaning plates, refilling pitchers. Harry cleared his throat, "Guys?"

Almost immediately, six elves congregated around Harry, "What can we be getting for young sir?"

Harry took a seat at the table closest to the door. "Steak, medium-well, a baked potato with sour cream and butter, and some fresh broccoli and ranch dressing, please. Oh, and a glass of orange juice."

The elves hurried to get Harry his food. Harry grinned at the nearly-overflowing plate. He cut a bite of steak and sighed. _This is the life…_ He reached for his glass and took a swallow. He nearly choked. "What the _heck_?! This ain't orange juice!" It was pumpkin juice. Harry normally didn't have anything against pumpkin juice; he thought it was weird, but okay enough once he got used to it.

One of the elves stopped and asked, "What is wrong, young sir?"

"I thought I asked for orange juice…"

The elf peered into Harry's glass, "But pumpkin juice _is _orange, young sir."

Harry groaned and proceeded to try to explain what orange juice was. He didn't think the elves quite understood. Finishing his dinner, Harry bade goodnight to the elves and hurried up to the Tower.

* * *

**A/N2:** 'Pfauhahn' is German for peacock. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I hope this satisfies for the moment. RL is being a pain, so I'm not going to be able to post that cut scene from 'Hogwarts is a Strange Place' to 'Bonus Features' until late tonight or even tomorrow. Sorry.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Quidditch Issues**

Over the next few days, Harry spent an inordinate amount of time trying to dodge both Lockhart and Colin Creevey. The first-year was an okay sort, but ignored or overlooked the fact that Harry neither wanted nor appreciated his hero-worship. _One of these days, I ought to sit him down and have a chat with the kid._ Between classes and working with Percy and Hermione on researching how to alter the clock-making charms, Harry was more than glad to finally reach the weekend. The Gryffindor boys, with Hermione and Ginny, were planning on visiting with Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he planned on getting up.

Harry blearily opened his eyes to see Oliver Wood standing next to his bed. "Whassamatter?"

"Quidditch practice!" Wood replied excitedly. "Come on!"

Harry fumbled his glasses into place and peered out the nearby window. The sky was barely starting to turn pink and gold through the morning mist. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," Wood said, his eyes shining with what Harry could only describe as manic joy. "It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go! None of the other teams have started training yet. We're going to be first off the mark this year."

Harry yawned hugely and climbed out of bed, trying to recall if his quidditch robes were in the clothing compartment of his trunk, or if he'd moved them to the hide-a-room. "Good man," Wood said. "Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes."

Harry nodded and mentally noted to talk to the twins at the earliest possible time. He didn't have anything against getting up early – he did it all the time at home – but he'd gotten used to sleeping in a little while at school. He also knew that none of the other players were going to be all that happy about practicing so early in the morning, _especially_ on the weekends.

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you –" Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

The photo was black-and-white, and showed Harry and Neville walking down the charms corridor. The photo-Harry looked up and grimaced, said something to the photo-Neville, and ducked behind a suit of armor. A couple of seconds later, a confused-looking Lockhart walked past. Harry remembered that particular incident – it had been on Thursday afternoon. "Will you sign it?" asked Colin eagerly.

"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry – quidditch practice…" He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a quidditch game before!" Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It's gonna be really boring, it's just practice," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of quidditch. "They're called bludgers. There're two beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.

"Well, the quaffle – that's the big red one - is the one that scores goals. Three chasers on each team throw the quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch – they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball –"

"– is the golden snitch," said Harry, "and it's very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that's what the seeker's got to do, because a game of quidditch doesn't end until the snitch has been caught. And whichever team's seeker gets the snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And you're the Gryffindor seeker, aren't you?" said Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass. "And there's the keeper, too. He guards the goal posts. That's it, really."

But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. The twins were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth-year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side-by-side opposite them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference..." Wood was holding up a large diagram of a quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred's head drooped right onto Alicia's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about how very comfortable his bed in Gryffindor tower was. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

George had woken with a start and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him to it. "Yeah, Oliver, I got a question." Oliver looked to the seeker. "Why didn't ya tell us all this yesterday night when we were still awake an' coulda _remembered_ it?" Wood obviously wasn't pleased, but Harry ignored his team captain. "An' another thing, I know y'all're a mornin' person – so am I – but none of the rest of the team is. Why have practice so early? Iffen y'all want us ta practice more, which ain't a half-bad idea, why do it when five-sevenths of the team is too incoherent ta walk straight, let alone _fly_? How the hell're we gonna win a game iffen one of our team's laid up in the hospital wing 'cause they crashed durin' practice?"

There was a sleepy chorus of 'here-here!' when Harry finished. Wood looked a little crestfallen. "You lot all think so?" There were several rounds of 'yes.'

"Look, Oliver, we all know you wanna play professionally when you're outta school, an' it'd look good to a recruiter iffen you're a captain, but this is still just a _game _for most of us. Somethin' fun ta do that ain't got nothin' ta do with classes. How well're we gonna play iffen we don't wanna no more?"

Harry seemed to be getting through to the sixth-year. He'd had a number of complaints about the early-morning practices before, but never really paid them any attention until the twins began pranking him. Harry's arguments about why the early morning wasn't a good time to practice made sense. Oliver sighed, "I'll talk to McGonagall and see if we can get the pitch for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, and alternate Saturdays that aren't Hogsmeade weekends."

His declaration was met with thunderous applause. Oliver opened the door to the locker room and led his team out onto the pitch. They'd been in the locker room so long that the sun was completely up now, and it looked as though it was going to be a beautiful day. Harry saw Ron and Ginny sitting in the stands with Hermione. "Aren't you finished yet?" Ron called down.

"Haven't even started!" Harry yelled back, looking longingly at the toast Ginny was eating. "Wood's been goin' over some new strategies." He mounted his Nimbus and kicked off, soaring up into the air. He loved flying, the way the cool air flowed around him, the sheer freedom of being able to go as high as he could and as low as he wanted. He circled the stadium at full speed, calling out to the twins to try and beat him.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he shrilly cried.

"Who's that?" asked George.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first-year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" Wood testily replied.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!" Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering. "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I _booked_ it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the quidditch field owing to the need to train their new seeker.'"

"You've got a new seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike and a little smile as he recalled the scene from the bookstore.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps –" he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, "– sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on. "What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him. "Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something none too nice; there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, and yelled, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face. Ginny, however, had beat her brother to hexing the pointy little Slytherin. Harry hadn't heard the incantation she'd shrieked, but he was thoroughly disgusted when slimy green boogers began climbing out of Draco's nose before growing to the size of an average bat, complete with wings, and started attacking the blonde. When Flint noticed what was going on with his new seeker, he recoiled in repulsion.

While the Slytherins were distracted, Harry grabbed Ron with one hand and Oliver with the other. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone calls a teacher."

"Good plan," Ron replied and hurriedly collected the twins. Oliver captured the attention of his chasers, and the Gryffindor quidditch team, along with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, headed off the pitch. They found a flat spot not far from the lake and Hermione transfigured a couple of branches into makeshift goals. The twins summoned the trunk of practice balls, and the team finally got into practicing.

While searching for the snitch, Harry let his mind wander over what had just happened back on the pitch. _Iffen Krätze__'s dad can buy brooms for the Slytherins, why can't Mom buy some for the Gryffindors? I'll need to talk to the team… Then call Mom…_

After practice ended, Harry hurried up to Oliver while Hermione ended the spells on the branches-cum-goalposts. "Oliver? Got a minute?"

"Yeah," the keeper replied, tucking the quaffle back into the trunk. He shoved it in the direction of the twins, who banished it back to the broom shed. "What do you need?"

"I was just thinkin'… Iffen Malfoy's pop can buy a slew of brooms for the Slytherins, why couldn't I do the same for Gryffindor? I mean, I'll hafta talk to my mom about it, but I don't think it'd be all that difficult to talk her into it." Harry was forced to duck as an overenthusiastic Oliver Wood narrowly avoided hugging him. "I take it, ya like the idea?"

Oliver could only grin in response.

That afternoon, after finishing up his homework, Harry headed towards Professor McGonagall's office. He knocked and was rewarded with a 'Come in.'

"Afternoon, ma'am," Harry greeted her.

"Mr. Brewer, to what do I owe the pleasure?" McGonagall asked, looking up from some paperwork on her desk.

"I'm here to talk about brooms, ma'am."

Of all the possible conversation topics that Harry could have selected, that one had been furthest from Minerva's mind. "Excuse me?"

"Brooms, ma'am. For the quidditch team."

She smiled a little, "So I take it that you have discovered the Slytherins' new acquisitions?"

Harry grimaced, "Yeah… Both of 'em. But, my opinion of that runty little scab aside, I was just thinkin' that it ain't all that fair for the entire Slytherin team to have new brooms when the rest of us are stuck with what we've got. Iffen Mr. Malfoy can buy brooms for Slytherin, wouldn't I – or Mom – be able to do the same for Gryffindor?"

McGonagall sighed, "I'm afraid it isn't quite so easy as that, Mr. Brewer. Lucius Malfoy is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, and as such has the authority to purchase anything he desires for the school."

"That ain't fair!" Harry protested, before falling silent for a couple of moments. "Well… What would it take for Gryffindor to get new brooms, too? Or even to standardize the brooms for all the quidditch teams?"

Minerva was a little surprised at that, "You know, Mr. Brewer, that is a most excellent idea… If we propose standardization of brooms for the house quidditch teams, we just might be able to receive board approval… I'll discuss it with the headmaster. However, I will say this, Mr. Brewer; though brooms for a quidditch team must be approved through the Board of Governors, personal gifts among friends, of course, are not." She gave Harry a mischievous little smile. "In either case, I will, as I said, discuss your idea with the headmaster and let you know when a decision has been reached."

"Thankee kindly, ma'am," Harry returned her grin and headed to the library to meet up with Percy and Hermione to continue researching the clock charms.

* * *

**A/N2:** Twenty points to your House if you can guess where this part of the plot is going! 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Yes, I did write the song contained in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Charming**

"That's it," Percy said, closing the book he was reading and pushing it to the side. "I think we've got all the information we need."

Hermione looked up from her notes, "I agree. However, Percy, I still think that this is rather risky…"

Percy shrugged, "Playing around with new spells always is, just ask the twins. I've got everything we need to set it up. When and where should we get it done? I've also got the clock, itself, carved."

Harry sat his quill down and popped his neck. "Don't know about the where, but why not do this on Saturday, when ev'ryone else'll be at the feast?"

"Halloween?" Percy looked thoughtful, "That just might work. Couldn't hurt, in any case. _Where_ should we do this, though?"

Hermione smiled, "I think I know just the place. Meet me outside the Great Hall at… five-thirty on Saturday. Make sure you've got everything with you."

"Can do," Harry replied before glancing at his watch. "Damn, is that the time? We're s'posed ta meet up with the guys in ten minutes for practice."

Hermione checked her own watch, "I'd forgotten! Come on, let's get these books put away."

"Don't worry about it," Percy waived them off. "Go have fun with your music; I'll get everything put away."

"Thanks," they both replied while hurrying for the library door.

When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Tower, they were only a couple of minutes late. Ron gave them an odd look, but since Harry was pretty sure that it was just because the redhead had a crush on Hermione, Harry didn't pay any attention to it. Instead, he got out his magical guitar and started going over fingerings for a song he'd been working on writing for the last couple of weeks. He showed Ron – who was picking up the skill quite quickly – what he wanted him to do before heading towards Dean and Seamus. He let Neville know that he wanted synth _and_ piano on this song, and showed the boy how to program the keyboard how to do both. Once everyone had a basic idea what Harry wanted, they attempted to follow his instructions. Hermione, who was looking at Harry's music notebook, dropped it and clamped her hands over her ears.

"Hold up, hold up! Seamus, you don't start in until the twelfth measure, and Dean, that second chord should be an E-minor, not E-major. Ron, you've got the right chords, but you need to follow the beat – right now, you're going too fast. Nev, you're doing great with the synth, but remember to come in on the second beat of the third measure with the piano," Harry went over what he wanted each of them to do once more.

"Anything you want me to do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Sure, iffen ya want to, the lyrics should be in that blue notebook you were lookin' at, yeah, that's it." Harry nodded when she held up the notebook open to the proper page.

Harry turned to the others, "Ready?" Receiving a round of nods, he counted down. The second time through, it was better. Ron was still a touch too fast, and Neville came in with the piano a measure too late, but it was recognizably music. It seemed to help some with someone singing the lyrics.

Going over the faults once more, Hermione interrupted Harry with an idea to project the sheet music he'd written for the song up on the wall. She did so when he admitted that might be a good idea, and the third time through the song, it was almost perfect. Harry grabbed the notebook, making a couple of last-minute adjustments, and they ran through it twice more – music only – before Harry indicated he was happy with the changes.

"One last time, and this time, Hermione'll join in again with the lyrics." Harry counted down, "One and two and one and three and one and play."

Neville began playing the keyboard, its synthesizer capabilities making it sound as though there were birds singing. At first it was random, but then he tapped a couple of buttons and one could hear a hesitant, lilting melody in the tones of birdsong. Hitting another button, Neville began playing a light string of piano tones that echoed the birdsong, along with chords that harmonized and emphasized the simple melody. Shortly after that, Ron came in with his guitar, mimicking the piano melody, and Dean's bass lent a richer sound to the chords. Suddenly, the birdsong faded completely, and Seamus filled the gap with strong, though light, drumbeats. Harry came in with a harmonic counterpoint to the melody, and on the second measure after he came in, Hermione started to sing in a pleasant, though not spectacular, alto.

_Hold your breath,  
Take a chance,  
Make a break,  
And soar!_

The synth cut in and the sound of wind could be heard for a moment, before the piano drowned it out.

_Cityscapes,  
Peaceful ocean waves,  
The greenest greens and the bluest blues below;  
The sky above,  
The earth beneath,  
Take a chance,  
Hold your breath,  
Take a chance,  
Make a break,  
And soar!_

At this point, the melodies being played on the two guitars shifted a little, and it wouldn't be too hard to imagine the sounds as two birds flying higher and higher. The duet lasted for several measures before settling back into the song's melody.

_There's no one here but you,  
Nothing around but the wind,  
And maybe a bird or two.  
Just you and the sky and an  
Endless stream of possibilities;  
There's a world to explore,  
So get off the floor,  
And hold your breath,  
Take a chance,  
Make a break,  
And soar!_

The melody and beat increased almost imperceptibly over several measures, before everything but the piano stopped. The piano played a couple of measures before Neville hit another button and the birdsong returned. Hermione sung the last few lines like Harry had noted, in a voice barely above a whisper.

_Hold your breath,  
Take a chance,  
And soar!_

As the last chirps of birdsong faded away, everyone just stood around, staring at each other. Dean was the first to break the silence. "That more like what you had in mind, Harry?"

Harry grinned at all of them, "Hell yeah!" That broke the tension, and everyone laughed.

The elation of finally hearing his song somewhere other than the inside of his head buoyed Harry's mood throughout the remainder of the week, and so, when Halloween dawned that Saturday, Harry was in an optimistic mood.

He finished up his homework for History of Magic during breakfast, and then hurried to the library to confirm with Percy that everything was set for that night. Percy confirmed this and advised that Harry find something else to do for the rest of the day – the older students were mostly in Hogsmeade, and Percy had a few things to pick up in the wizarding village himself. Harry followed his advice, and located Ron. The two of them played a couple of games of chess – Ron won two of them and Harry managed to score a draw on the last due to a lucky move early in the game. When Dean and Neville showed up in the common room shortly afterwards, they switched over to Exploding Snap, in which Harry had nearly no skill whatsoever. After lunch, he convinced Seamus to join them and Harry taught them how to play five card draw – something Dave had taught him during his grounding the summer before. It took them almost an hour to agree on a ranking for the junk food they were betting. The poker game lasted well into the afternoon, and by the time that the upper years were returning from Hogsmeade, Harry had managed to break even, though he did happen to have more chocolate frogs than when he started the game, but was completely out of pretzels.

When Hermione finally made an appearance, it was getting close to five o'clock. Harry and she sat in a corner of the common room, their potions text and notes out, talking in hushed voices about the spells they were going to do that evening. Ron and the other Gryffindor boys were sitting on the opposite side of the room, supposedly playing Snap, but Ron was so busy watching Hermione that he wasn't keeping track of the game. The other three had to break down laughing when a particularly scatterbrained move on Ron's part had the entire deck explode in a shower of hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades.

Brushing the card-confetti off his shirt, Seamus leveled a mock-glare at Ron. "What gives?"

"Yeah, mate," Neville added. "You aren't usually so… distracted."

"Harry and Hermione are up to something," Ron answered in a low voice, not taking his eyes from the pair across the room.

"Looks like their potions homework to me," Dean said. "Figures… Neither of them can stand to leave homework 'til it's _supposed_ to be done – Sunday night."

Neville snorted and elbowed Dean, "Some of us don't like being rushed, you know."

Ron tore his gaze from Harry and Hermione. "No, seriously, I think they're up to something. I've seen them in the library a time or two with Percy, all three of them looking through these really advanced books."

"Ron," Seamus said, edging away from the redhead, "you're scaring us."

"Yeah… Just _when_ were you in the library?" Dean added.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Just because I don't like schoolwork doesn't mean I don't study every now and again. _You _try having a Head Boy-come-cursebreaker, a dragon handler, a straight-O prefect, _and_ the twins for brothers. You'll see what I mean."

"What makes you so sure they're up to something?" Neville asked, trying to get the conversation back on-topic.

"You remember how Harry was acting at the end of last year, right?" There were a round of nods. "Doesn't it seem like he's doing that again, only maybe not quite so… What's the word… Apparent?"

"I think you mean 'blatant,'" Neville supplied. "But I think I can see what you mean…"

Dean stood, pulling Seamus up with him. "Well then, come on."

"What?" Ron looked up from his seat on the floor.

"Let's go talk to him. Couldn't hurt, and just might help."

Neville jumped to his feet to join Seamus and Dean. Ron nodded and followed suit. The four of them walked over to where Harry and Hermione were sitting. "Guys?" They broke off their whisperings and looked up.

Harry smiled, "Whacha need, Ron?"

"Come on, Harry. You too, Hermione." He motioned for them to follow the other boys.

Exchanging a glance, Harry checked his watch. It was a quarter after five. "This won't take long, will it? The feast is gonna start soon," he said, trying not to betray any of the nervousness he felt.

"Shouldn't," Ron said, leading the group of second-year Gryffindors through the portrait hole and to an empty room nearby. Harry looked around and realized that it wasn't an old classroom. The room was too big to be a closet, but too small for really any other purpose. He spotted some crates in the corner and wondered briefly whose they were – they weren't that old, and the room was in too good of shape for _someone_ not to use it from time to time. Ron closed the door behind everyone. "What are you two planning?" he asked without preamble.

Harry smiled innocently, "What makes you think we're plannin' somethin'?"

Ron rolled his eyes and gestured to Hermione. Harry glanced over and growled under his breath. _Someone needs to teach her how to hide things._ She was wearing a distinctly guilty expression. Harry elbowed her, "Hermione!"

She jumped, "What?"

Harry mimicked Ron's expression from just a moment before and rolled his eyes. Turning back to the other boys, he sighed, "Yeah… We're plannin' somethin'."

"What, exactly?" Seamus asked.

"Harry, is this wise?" Hermione interjected.

Harry shrugged, checking his watch. "Mayhap so, mayhap not. Come on, then. I'll explain later. We need to get going, otherwise we'll be late." He stepped around Ron and opened the door to reveal the twins. He swore creatively in German.

"Can we assume…"

"…from that incomprehensible string of gibberish…"

"…that you aren't happy to see us?"

"How long were you standing there?" Harry sighed.

"Well…"

"…we heard the alarms on our work-room go off…"

"…and so rushed here…"

"…intent on catching the culprit…"

"…and arrived just in time to find out that you…"

"…are planning something…"

"…without _us_!"

Harry slumped and rolled his head to face the ceiling, "Was it too much to ask that we get through the night without _informing everyone_!"

Most of those assembled snickered at Harry. Hermione merely shook her head and pushed him into the corridor. "Come along then, everyone. We need to get down to the Great Hall."

Curious, everyone followed Harry and Hermione through the school. Percy was waiting next to the doors with a large bag over his shoulder. "What's this?" he asked in alarm at the size of the group.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Perce. Hermione, you said you knew a place to do this?"

Hermione nodded. "It's this way," she inclined her head to indicate a corridor before leading them a short distance to a girl's lavatory.

Percy and Harry had both worked with Hermione long enough to realize that if she said that this bathroom was safe for their use, she knew what she was talking about and so followed her through the doors without any hesitation. Fred and George were close behind them. Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus, however, paused at the door long enough for Harry to double-back and ask, "Comin' or not?"

That decided them, and they braved the unknown horrors of the girls' loo. Neville noticed that the girls' lav wasn't that much different than the boys' – there were more sinks and stalls, and an understandable lack urinals, but the walls and floor were the same stone and tile. He did notice, however, that the girls' room didn't smell as bad as the boys' and had to wonder at that.

"So, mate, why are we in a bathroom?" Dean asked.

"And a _girls'_ one at that?" Seamus added.

Hermione answered. "This isn't just a bathroom – it's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever comes in here after the first-years get warned off during the second week of school."

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Neville asked.

"She's a ghost who likes to haunt the plumbing," Fred replied. Hermione looked a little surprised that the twins knew that, but shook it off with the realization that it was the _twins_, after all – they probably knew as much, if not more, about the castle as the professors.

"But back to the question at hand," Ron leaned against a wall. "Just _what_ are we doing here?"

Harry sighed and told his friends about his experience with Dobby the house elf over the summer, and Percy's plan on how to find out more about what was going on by making a clock of sorts.

Dean let out a low whistle. "Wow… Why didn't you just talk to the headmaster?"

"What makes you think I haven't?" Harry retorted.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "If you had, why are we sneaking around in a girls' loo?"

Harry chuckled a little. "True. To be honest, I just wanted to see iffen I couldn't figure out most of this on my own – well," he looked to Hermione and Percy, "maybe not _alone_, but without _adults_."

The rest of the assembly seemed to understand his reasoning. "Well, then, what can we do to help?" George asked.

Harry looked to Percy, who began pulling papers out of his bag. "I honestly don't know how it will affect the spell, but it stands to reason that chaining the power for the spells through all of us will augment our purpose…"

Hermione brightened, "Of course! And if Fred and George are as in-sync with their magic as they are with everything else, that will allow the power-chain to be exponential, rather than merely multiplied ninefold."

After glancing over the others, Harry was relieved to note that he wasn't the only one who had absolutely no idea what Percy and Hermione were on about. "Come again?"

Hermione explained while Percy started drawing a glowing outline on the tile floor with his wand. "Chaining magic is letting magic flow through two or more people before being channeled through a wand for a spell. It increases the power of the spell. For example, if you were to cast an ordinary hovering charm, you can hover approximately ten times your body-mass. However, if you and Ron were to chain your magic into a hover charm, the resulting spell would be able to hover something twenty times your _combined_ body-mass."

There were several sounds of understanding from the boys. "And with synchronized magic – that's spells cast by two or more wizards that are _perfectly_ in tune with one another – the power of a spell cast is multiplied exponentially. Like with the earlier example, if you and Ron cast a hover charm in-sync, instead of merely hovering something twenty times your combined body-mass, you would be able to hover something that was one-hundred times more massive than what your body-mass would be _multiplied_ by Ron's."

Harry let out a low whistle. "Wow. So…" he saw that Percy was finished with his diagram and was setting various oddments around the circular drawing. "Just _how_ do we do this?"

Hermione looked to the twins. "Are you?"

They grinned, "How do you think we manage some of the pranks we pull?"

"When Percy's done with the layout, talk to him about the incantations." Hermione turned her attention to the boys. "In order to chain our magic, we'll need to practice a little. The books I've read said that it's relatively simple. I need everyone to line up from tallest to shortest in a circle, with the shortest facing the back of the tallest." It took a moment and a quick charm from Fred to determine who was taller, Hermione or Seamus, before everyone was lined up properly. "Next, I need everyone to hold their wands so that the tip is lightly touching the shoulder of the wand-arm of the person in front of them. Now, let's try something simple… perhaps a quick _lumos_… I'll designate as the caster, so, Seamus, I want you to merely push some magic through your wand, not focusing on any sort of effect. Neville, when he manages that, you should feel a little tingle. When you do, go ahead and push that tingle, along with some of your own magic, through your own wand. Harry, when you feel the tingle from Neville, do the same to Ron, and so on."

It took them several tries before Hermione felt the tell-tale tingle in her own shoulder. "Now, be careful to shield your eyes. This is going to be rather bright." She pointed her wand directly overhead, said _lumos_ followed by a hasty _nox_. The resulting flash of light was brighter than any flash from a camera, and the spots created in eyes from it reflecting off of taps and mirrors lingered far longer than a mere camera flash.

"I'll be go to hell," Harry whispered. "_Damn_…"

"That was promising." Percy said, blinking rapidly. "You're sure the magic made only one circuit?"

Hermione nodded, "You think we should cycle it?"

Percy thought for a bit, taking out a blank parchment and a never-out quill. "I don't know…" He scribbled what looked like long strings of advanced algebra out on the parchment before sighing and putting it back in his bag. "There's no telling what that will do to the spells. We're already on unstable enough ground as it is, we'd better not risk it."

The twins looked a little disappointed, but held their tongues. "We know the spells," Fred said, stepping up to the glowing diagram on the floor. The clock had been placed in the exact center of it. George stood opposite him.

"Thought we had to be lined up by height?" Seamus asked.

"Since the twins are both serving as casters, they're not technically part of the circle. This is going to be a little complicated," Hermione said. "Should we practice with something benign first?"

Percy shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. I doubt we'd be able to withstand so much as a _lumos_ being both chained _and_ sync-spelled. In all honesty, we'll be lucky if the clock doesn't simply explode…"

"Mayhap one of us ought ta stand outside, just in case…" Harry reasoned.

"Not a bad idea," George said. "Who doesn't want to do this?"

None of the second-years looked willing to drop out. Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, it was my idea, so _I'll_ do it." Slightly irritated that his suggestion wasn't vetoed, Harry stepped into the hall to wait.

Percy stuck his head out the door and said, "If none of us come to fetch you in twenty minutes, get Madam Pomfrey."

Harry saluted, "Aye-aye, cap'in." _Being a Boy Scout sometimes sucks,_ he thought while sliding to sit in the shadows of where a large statue stood in a nook across the hall from the bathroom door. He checked his watch, it was a quarter past six. He was almost positive that their absence from the Halloween feast had not gone unnoticed. He wondered what would come of it. After about five minutes of waiting, he was startled out of his thoughts by the unannounced – though not totally unexpected – appearance of Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Harry."

"Headmaster," Harry returned evenly.

"I noticed a rather disproportionate absence of Gryffindors at the feast," Albus stated, his tone barely different than if he were commenting on the weather.

"Ah, yeah. I know. Sorry."

Albus smiled a little, "Do not be so, Harry. I realize you wish some level of autonomy in your life. I was merely curious as to the cause."

Harry sighed, "Investigating another mystery. Sir." The 'sir' was almost a afterthought.

Albus chuckled, "Ever interesting, isn't it?"

"What is, sir?"

The headmaster merely shook his head and started down the hallway. He paused about ten yards or so from Harry. "Do keep in mind that I am more than willing to help, should you need it."

"Of course," Harry nodded back to Dumbledore when the man bade him and his friends a good evening. Though Harry wasn't particularly fond of the headmaster, he didn't actively dislike the man, either. Harry also knew that Dumbledore was often hailed as one of the foremost wizards in Britain. It didn't help, though, that the sense Harry'd had ever since meeting him – that he wouldn't voluntarily disclose information unless cornered into it – had only grown with time.

Harry jerked his head up at the sound of the loo door opening. "Harry?" Hermione called.

Harry stepped from the shadows of the statue. "How'd it go?"

"Don't know yet. You still have the hairs with you."

Harry chuckled weakly. "So I do," he replied, pulling them from his pocket. They were coiled up in a parchment envelope. Ducking into the bathroom, he mutely handed the envelope over to Percy, noticing that the diagram on the floor was now gone. Percy carefully removed one of the half-dozen or so long, white-blonde hairs and charmed the only hand on the clock. While waiting, Harry noticed that this clock was different than the one that hung above the mantle at home. It was simple, unadorned, and had a 'yes' carved at the twelve o'clock position and a 'no' at the six. The remainder of the face was crowded with the alphabet and the numbers zero through nine. The hand, as well, was slightly different than the family clock. Instead of having a place for a picture and a pointer, the very end of the hand was a small empty circle, which Harry noted was just big enough to completely encircle a letter or number. _Guess that's to keep it from giving hazy answers…_ There was a muted flash of rose light, but the hand on the clock didn't move.

"How do we know if it worked?" Neville asked.

"Ask it a question, I suppose." Percy offered.

Harry cleared his throat and made to ask something before suddenly stopping and asking Percy, "It's supposed to respond like it's really Über Krätze, yeah?"

Percy blinked, "Huh?"

"Sorry… Like it's really Malfoy Senior."

Percy nodded, "That's what we were going for… may as well test it out."

Harry faced the clock. "What's your son's name?"

The hand started moving, slowly at first, then with speed, pausing only momentarily over the proper letters. "D-R-A-C-O-N-U-S-X-A-V-I-E-R-L-U-C-I-E-N-M-A-L-F-O-Y." Harry read the letters out loud for the benefit of the group.

"Draconus Xavier Lucien Malfoy," Hermione stated for those who weren't quick enough to break the string of letters into their proper places. "I think some note-taking is in order," she muttered. Harry handed her a small notebook he carried in his pocket and a mechanical pencil.

"It seems to work," the twins said simultaneously.

Hermione opened the memo pad, surprised to see it was already filled with several questions, one per page. "I see you've given this some thought," Hermione chuckled.

"Just a little," Harry replied sarcastically.

"Shall we get on with this? I'm curious enough that I'm missing what's sure to be a spectacular feast…" Ron grumbled, only whining a little.

Harry looked up at Percy, who shrugged as if to say, 'it's your show.' Taking a deep breath, he recited his first question, having had ample time to memorize the order in which he'd written them in the notebook. "Why were you in Flourish and Blott's that day?"

T-O-G-I-V-E-A-R-T-H-U-R-W-E-A-S-L-E-Y-S-D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R-A-S-P-E-L-L-E-D-D-I-A-R-Y

Harry noticed that the hand completely circled the face before landing on the same letter twice in a row. He nodded at the reply, though, it was an answer he was expecting. "Who did the diary belong to before you?"

T-O-M-M-A-R-V-O-L-O-R-I-D-D-L-E

Surprised that it didn't say 'Voldemort,' Harry asked a question not in the notebook. "Who?"

L-O-R-D-V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T

"Makes sense, even with the weird names most wizards seem ta favor, it didn't seem all that likely 'Voldemort' was his real name," Harry murmured to himself. He moved on to the next question. "What are the spells on the diary?"

I-D-O-N-T-K-N-O-W-A-L-L-O-F-T-H-E-M

"What ones _do_ ya know?"

A-B-S-E-Q-U-E-O-U-S-C-I-D-N-E-F-A-C-T-U-M

"Is that all one word?" Hermione asked. The hand spun to 'no.'

"Spell it out with a longer pause between words," Harry demanded.

A-B-S-E-Q-U-E-O-U-S

C-I-D

N-E

F-A-C-T-U-M

"What other spells?"

INDESTRUCTIBLE CHARM

REVELUM

ABSORBUS

"Any others that you know?" The hand first spun to 'yes,' before swinging to 'no.' The clock then spelled out 'I don't know' again. "What do you mean?" Harry asked.

RUMORS

"What rumors?"

SOMEHOW LINKED HIMSELF TO IT

"Linked? How?"

WHISPERS OF HORCRUX

"What's that?" This time it was Dean who spoke up. None of the others knew either. The clock answered, though.

DARKEST OF THE DARK ARTS

"What else do you know about this 'horcrux?'"

RUMORED TO ALLOW ETERNAL LIFE

"What else?"

THAT IS ALL

"Why were you giving the diary to Ginny?"

TO HAVE THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS OPENED AGAIN

"What is this chamber?"

SALAZAR SLYTHERINS CHAMBER DEEP WITHIN THE BOWELS OF HOGWARTS

"Why?"

SO THAT THE SLEEPING SERVANT OF SALAZAR MIGHT BE RELEASED

"Why?"

TO CLEANSE THE SCHOOL OF MUDBLOODS

"Just what is this servant?"

I AM UNSURE RUMORED TO BE THE KING OF SERPENTS

"Do you know where this chamber is?"

THE BOWELS OF HOGWARTS

"Yeah, we caught that," Harry was starting to get a little irritated. He knew from the research they had been doing that the clock wasn't capable of lying. "Just where, exactly, though?"

THE BOWELS OF HOGWARTS

Harry growled in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione took over the questioning. "Why pick Ginny Weasley?"

PLANNED THIS FOR A LONG TIME

"Yes, but why Ginny?"

ONLY WEASLEY GIRL

"How does that fit in?"

WANTED REVENGE

"Revenge?" Ron muttered, "Revenge for what?"

THEY DIDNT NOTICE AND I WAS COUNTING ON THEM TO NOTICE THEY DIDNT NOTICE THEY DIDNT NOTICE THEY DIDNT NOTICE THEY DIDNT NOTICE

The clock hand was spinning so fast now that Harry had a hard time seeing it pause over the letters. There was an alarming whistling noise coming from it, before it shuddered to a complete stop. Harry looked up at Percy. Percy had a grimace on his face. "I don't think it's going to work again," he answered Harry's unspoken question. "That question seemed to burn it out, for some reason."

Harry tried one last question, just in case. "Who didn't notice?" The clock was still. "Guess that's it, then. Damn. I was hoping we'd be able to get more out of it than that."

Hermione didn't look quite as downhearted as Percy and Harry did. "Come on, we got most of the questions answered. We now know that the diary _is_ spelled, though I don't know any but the indestructible charm of the spells it said. We further know that he was aiming to release a monster of sorts from the Chamber of Secrets. I'll hurry off to the library tomorrow to look up that 'king of serpents' reference."

Harry nodded, and picked up the clock. Other than stopping like it did, it didn't appear to be damaged in any way. "Mind if I keep this, Perce?" Percy shrugged and gathered up his own parchments before following the others out into the hall and down to the feast. Harry followed some time later, lost in thought. After the excitement of the spell and questioning the clock, the feast just didn't seem all that important.

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**A/N2:** Thanks again for reading. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Sorry this one took so long to get out - my wireless keyboard died and I was having issues getting my backup normal one to work.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Dreaming**

The month of November passed rather quietly, for most of Gryffindor house, in any case. Hermione, who had found out that the 'king of serpents' was in actuality a basilisk, returned to studying her normal courses when she told Harry. Harry spent a Saturday afternoon researching the animal, and stored his notes in his hide-a-room until such time that he could locate the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Classes and quidditch progressed as normally as possible, and the first quidditch match – Gryffindor versus Slytherin – was won by Gryffindor, 160 to 140; the new brooms on the Slytherin team very nearly cost them the game. Harry continued avoiding Lockhart at every opportunity – the idiot had actually managed to start a dueling club, which Harry agreed was a cool idea, but refused to attend simply because Professor Pfauhahn was the faculty supervisor – and badgering Hermione at least once a week into reading the DADA books just to find continuity issues. Harry and the other Gryffindor second-years continued practicing with their music whenever classes got to be too much, and Harry continued having occlumency lessons with Professor Snape every other Friday evening. Harry had been given permission to go home for Thanksgiving, once again, and spent much of the lengthy weekend catching up with A.J. and playing pool with Dave, Remus, and Sirius, though he did help his dad patch a hole in the garage roof while he was there.

On Friday, December 4, Harry was on his way to an occlumency lesson when he caught sight of the Bloody Baron just ahead in the corridor. _Oh, yeah, that reminds me…_ Harry quickened his pace and hurried up to the Slytherin house ghost. "Mr. Baron, sir?"

The macabre ghost seemed a touch amused to be spoken to thus. "Yes?"

"I had a question for you, iffen y'all wouldn't mind."

"And that would be, Mr. Brewer?"

"How come Peeves only really listens to you?"

The Bloody Baron looked a little taken aback – he'd obviously not quite expected _that_ particular question. He flicked a little silvery blood off of his brow, "Why do you want to know?"

Harry shrugged, "Just curious."

The Baron nodded, knowing that to a twelve year-old, 'just curious' was an acceptable reason for hundreds, if not thousands, of possible questions. "I see. You are aware, are you not, of the difference between a true ghost and a poltergeist?"

Harry nodded and quoted Sir Nicholas' description from that morning over a year before when he'd spoken to him about poltergeists, "'They are an expression of repressed emotions and untamed magic, quite common to areas with teenagers, simply due to the overabundance of emotion and half-trained magic available.'"

"You've been speaking with Sir Nicholas."

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

"Quite accurate, whatever the source. Usually, magical schools such as Hogwarts are plagued with poltergeist activity, but they rarely consolidate into a single entity."

"How come we've got Peeves, then?"

"Because, when I was alive, I taught here, and there had been numerous incidents of unfocused poltergeist activity that disrupted both classes and personal time alike. It was maddeningly frustrating to be in the middle of dinner or some such and suddenly end up covered in your meal, or to reach for chalk only to find that it was all melded with the blackboard. I spent several years developing a spell to focus the poltergeist activity into a single entity, so as to hopefully provide some sort of control or warning – and to provide some much-needed peace and quiet."

"Oh," Harry chuckled a little. "So you stayed to control Peeves, since you essentially made him what he is, yeah?"

The Baron nodded, "Yes, I did." He looked like he wanted to ask a question of his own, but didn't.

Harry laughed outright. "You wanna ask me somethin', doncha? Go ahead."

The Baron smirked, "You are the first person in several hundred years not of Slytherin House to ask me why Peeves obeys me. Does my appearance not scare you?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I mean, it ain't as though you can hurt me none, no matter how gruesome you look."

The Baron wiped more silvery blood off his face, "I had adopted this guise so as to keep people from asking questions…"

"I'd say it prob'ly works, for the most part."

"That it does. I would ask that you keep this information to yourself."

"Why?"

The Baron chuckled, "I am a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff. I did what I did to benefit myself and my house, but if it became common knowledge, people would assume otherwise. I would prefer my house's reputation to remain where it is."

Harry refrained from saying something sarcastic about Dark Lords in training. "Thanks for answering me, though." He checked his watch. "Eek. I oughta get goin', I'm late as it is." The Baron nodded and floated away as Harry rushed down the remaining corridors to Professor Snape's office.

The remainder of December passed much like November had, the only real difference being the level of snow outside and the growing anticipation for the upcoming holiday. Harry spent a Sunday ensconced in a private corner of the library, madly filling out order forms for his Yule shopping. He managed to locate presents for his Hogwarts friends without too much difficulty, and also ordered a large gift-basket of sweets for the teachers. He'd included a little card with that one so that the headmaster would know it was to be shared amongst the _whole_ faculty. He wasn't sure what to get for his family, though, and decided to save the shopping for them until he had a chance to visit the wizarding section of Des Moines.

A letter from his mom stated that this year they would be hosting two Yule parties; one for all their muggle friends, and another one for all the witches and wizards they now knew. Harry remembered to forward the enclosed invitations to the Longbottoms, Weasleys, Grangers, Finnegans, Thomases, and the handful of other wizards at Hogwarts who his mom had invited. The other bit of information in the letter from his folks said that his grandma, Little Bird, would be spending a couple of days with them over the holiday. Harry grinned at that. He really liked Little Bird, and was looking forward to seeing more of her.

The letter also reminded Harry of the dream-catcher and the packet of herbs that Little Bird had sent him earlier in the year. After receiving it, he had sat the box in his hide-a-room and completely forgotten about it. So, on the last night of the term, Harry informed his dorm-mates he was going to be sleeping in his trunk.

Harry slid down the ladder in his customary manner, already dressed in his pajamas. He'd pinned the dream-catcher above his bed and tucked the packet of herbs into his pillow like Little Bird had advised. Turning back the covers on the bed, he spared a glance at the clock Percy had made, which was sitting on his desk, wishing they'd been able to get more information out of it. He pushed it from his mind, though, and snuggled down under the thick blanket with a book of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories. He made it halfway through _The Pit and the Pendulum_ before he drifted off.

He was standing in a bathroom in the castle – some part of him noticed that this was the same bathroom wherein he and his friends had spelled the clock on Halloween only there weren't any mirrors. He heard a slight hissing noise, much like a tea-kettle just before it whistles, and followed the sound to one of the sinks. A small, vibrantly green snake was curled up over the drain, doing the snake-equivalent of snoring.

"Hey, there," Harry said, slowly stroking the little snake. "There're better places ta sleep than a sink, ya know."

The snake seemed to wake up, though it kept its eyes shut. "So cold…" it hissed, "but must remain where Master said… where Master said I'd be safe."

"Why?" Harry asked t he little snake. "What about when you get hungry?"

"Because Master said… Master said so… to stay here… and here I must stay."

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Long time… long time… Many sheddings," the snake seemed to be more alert than it had been before Harry picked it up, though it still wouldn't open its eyes.

"What's your name, little'un?" Harry continued stroking the cool scales.

And in the manner of which only dreams are capable, Harry heard the snake reply in two separate words, though Harry knew, just _knew_,they were really the same thing. "Sharinsessenanya," was said at the same time as, "Ruby."

"Iffen it's been so long, maybe your master ain't comin' back?" Harry said softly, though not without compassion.

The snake hissed in outrage, and the bathroom melted around Harry. He suddenly found himself standing alone in the middle of a long, dimly lit chamber. Stone pillars carved with serpents – some looking like nothing more than giant stone snakes, themselves – towered around him, supporting a ceiling lost in the shadows above. The only available light had an odd, greenish cast to it, reminding Harry of… _something_, but he couldn't quite recall _what_ – whatever it was danced just out of the realm of recollection, just like the answer to the last question in a third-grade test he'd had; 'Name the capital of Tennessee.'

Harry heard the sound of stone grinding on stone, and something massive sliding through the dimness before him. He was suddenly afraid. He knew that he'd been speaking with the basilisk in the bathroom, but it had just been a baby… What Harry now felt approaching him in the darkness was fully mature. A much louder, deeper voice echoed around the stone room, "Foolish human… Master _always_ keeps his word."

Then Harry saw it through the gloom. Like something out of a cut-rate horror movie, the basilisk was frighteningly large. The back of its head was a good four feet above the ground and Harry could barely see the tip of its tail some sixty feet further back in the shadows. The basilisk still had its eyes closed, but that didn't stop it from coming closer and closer to Harry. Harry couldn't move, and looking down, saw that his feet were sinking in the stone floor of the chamber. Panicking now, Harry reached for his wand, only to find that it wasn't in his pocket. The snake was mere yards away. Harry could hear it laughing as it slowly started to open its eyes. They were bright yellow. Suddenly, there was a crowing noise and Harry startled awake.

"What the _hell_…?"

"Oh, good. You're up," Neville said, climbing down the ladder. "You need to hurry and get ready to leave. Everyone else has been up for a while now. The train leaves in an hour."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry replied. "I'll be right up. Just need to get dressed, then I'll be all ready to go. Thanks, though, for comin' to make sure I'm up. Woulda hated to've missed the train."

Neville smiled and shrugged, "No problem, mate."

When Neville had returned to the dormitory, Harry hurriedly scribbled down what he could remember of the dream. Once that was finished, he dressed and headed up to the Tower, too. His roommates were rushing through a flurry of last-minute packing. "Ya know, y'all wouldn't've been so rushed had y'all packed yesterday."

Ron paused in sorting out his socks long enough to pelt Harry with a wad of stiffly filthy socks. The wad bounced off of Harry's head, and the rest of the boys laughed heartily at Harry's rather disgusted expression.

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**A/N2:** Thanks again to everyone who reads this insane plot bunny! 


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I believe there's only two more chapters after this one for this book, then I'll get started posting the next book. Just a quick reminder, I'm still writing Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, and I won't start posting it until I'm done writing it.

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**Chapter Nine: Yule**

The Christmas holidays were a whirlwind of chaotic confusion. On the third day home, Remus and Aurilia took Harry to see the wizarding section of Des Moines – in actuality, it wasn't really a part of Des Moines, proper, but a suburb sandwiched between Clive and West Des Moines – called the Hollow. It had its own mall, but the mall didn't have so much as a single Radio Shack or Sears. It actually reminded Harry of Diagon Alley, only without the threat of being rained on. He managed to finish up his Yule shopping, and the three of them had lunch at a little restaurant not far from the mall.

The fifth day home saw the first Brewer Yule Party – the one for all their muggle friends and acquaintances. Harry got the chance to meet the girl that Aurilia was training alongside A.J. in the arts of herbal medicine. Her name was Carly Munez and was about twenty-five or so, with long black hair and the coppery complexion of someone whose parents likely didn't speak English.

The day of Yule was spent opening presents and drinking hot chocolate. Harry also spent a lot of time playing with his almost-three-year-old brother and six-month-old sister. He got to see A.J. and the two of them traded spells for the better part of four hours that afternoon, before everyone sat down to a late lunch/early dinner.

The day after Yule brought the second Brewer Yule Party and all of Harry's friends – with most of their families in tow – showed. Even Hagrid got to make an appearance this time as his duties weren't as time-consuming during the winter months. The only one of Harry's invitations that had been returned was the one for Professor Snape, who had included a terse note about how parties really weren't his scene, 'if you would care to recall that horrid affair the summer before you started Hogwarts.' Harry merely laughed and sent a reply back with Dumbledore asking something highly technical about the uses of synthetic compounds in healing salves.

During the party, Sirius managed to corner Hagrid and, two days before Harry was due back at Hogwarts, Sirius disappeared through the floo, only to portkey back an hour later in the driveway. Harry watched as he pushed a large motorcycle up the drive, parking it to one side of the garage. _Didn't he mention something about that thing being able to fly?_

Harry's musings were answered that evening after dinner when Sirius took him for a ride on it. Harry had once thought that nothing was more fun than flying the Cessna in his piloting class, but had to reassess that thought when he flew his ultralight for the first time, and again during that first broomstick ride. He found himself having to do so yet again after the ride on the motorcycle with his godfather.

After the exhilaration of the flight, Harry had a hard time sleeping that night, so he slid down the ladder to his hide-a-room, thinking he might work a little more on the last of his holiday homework. He got distracted, however, when he was searching for a pen and came across the diary. He sat on the bed, flipping through the small book. _I wonder how this thing was supposed to work?_ He carried it over to his desk and sat down. _Well… Most diaries get stuff written in them, right? But this one's completely blank. The clock said it had a bunch of spells woven into it… Wasn't one of those 'absorbus?' Didn't I see that one in one of James' old textbooks?_ Harry got to his feet and pulled down a couple of his father's old charms textbooks. After a few minutes, he located the spell in the index of the fifth-year text. He looked the spell up and found that it was an ink-specific spell intended to prolong the use-life of parchment. It was also listed as one of the spells required when making messenger-parchments; apparently, when spelled properly, two pieces of parchment could be used like text-based walkie-talkies. Harry made a note to himself to get Hermione to look into making some for their group of friends – not only would it save on floo powder, but it would mean that no more weirdo house elves could waylay the mail.

Harry hesitantly opened the diary and chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen for a moment. _What should I say? I mean… I have absolutely no idea what will happen iffen I write in this damn thing… Come on Harry, think like a Slytherin… I s'pose…_ Harry sat the tip of his pen onto the first blank page.

_December 24, 1992_

_I found this old diary in a friend's dad's old school stuff a while back. I wonder why no one ever used it before? The pages are all blank. My friends would probably tease me if they knew that I'm writing in something as girly as a diary._

_My name is Jay Westlake and I'm twelve. I live on a horse-ranch in Iowa, but go to school in Scotland. My parents went there when they were my age and the school gave me the option to go there, too. I'm currently home for winter break._

Suddenly, the two short paragraphs that Harry had written disappeared, the ink sinking into the paper. Harry watched in rapt fascination as this happened, and moments later, much neater handwriting than his own showed up.

**Hello, Jay. My name is Tom Riddle. This used to be my diary. Do you attend Hogwarts?**

_Now we're getting somewhere!_ Harry thought. He smiled a little and replied to Tom's question.

_Yes. Did you go there, too?_

**Yes, I did. You said that you found me among a friend's father's old school things… May I ask whom?**

Harry's little smile grew. _My friend's name is Draco. His dad is Lucius Malfoy. Did you know him when you were in school?_

**The name is not familiar, at least not the first name. I knew Abraxas Malfoy – he was several years ahead of me in school. What can you tell me about Lucius?**

_Just a second, Tom,_ Harry wrote back. _My mom is calling for me. I'll be right back._

**I'll be waiting.**

Aurilia wasn't calling for Harry, of course, but he needed a couple of minutes to look up the name of Abraxas Malfoy in his genealogy books. It didn't take long.

_I'm back. Sorry about that. Lucius is Abraxas' son. Guess that means I'm friends with the grandson of the person you knew._

**So it would seem.**

_Anyway, Lucius is pureblood. He married Narcissa Black. I don't really know a whole lot about Lucius, though. I know he bought new brooms for the Slytherin quidditch team this year. They're really good ones, too. Nimbus 2001._

**I can't say that I am familiar with the brand, but I'll trust you. Do you play quidditch?**

_Yeah, I'm a seeker. You?_

**Though most of my acquaintances were obsessed with the sport, I couldn't come up with the required enthusiasm. I was more concerned with my education.**

_You sound like one of the Gryffindor girls. Her name's Hermione and if it isn't in a book, I don't think she'd be interested in it._

**There is more to education than merely books.**

_I know. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?_

**That would depend on what they were.**

Harry nodded, he hadn't assumed that Tom would do any less. He decided to start with some easy ones before moving on to the harder ones.

_How old are you? And __what__ are you? No offense, but are you some sort of ghost or something?_

**No, I am not a ghost. I am… a memory of who I was at sixteen years old.**

_Cool. How come?_

**Pardon?**

_Why did you preserve yourself in the diary?_

**So that I would always be at the school, even if I was really elsewhere, doing other things.**

_Why?_ Harry wrote, thinking, _Iffen I didn't know that this guy was really Voldemort, I'd be tempted to believe anything he said. I think he's doing what I am, though, and giving me only the smallest part of the truth. _Harry snickered at the mental image he suddenly had of two cartoon sharks in Slytherin colors, circling round and round a large pot with the words 'THE POINT' written on it.

**When I was in school, many bad things happened. I felt it would be best that they not be forgotten.**

_What bad things?_

**There were attacks on the students. A girl died.**

_That's awful, but why did you think that you'd be of any use by staying? Were you a teacher? I thought you said you were only sixteen…_

**No, I was merely a student at the time.**

_What else can you tell me? If I'm going to school there, I ought to know what sorts of dangers there are. I mean, everyone knows about the squid in the lake, and the creatures in the forest, but I don't remember being told about a girl dying in the school before._

**Then it appears as though my goal has been thwarted. Tell me, Jay, what do you know of Salazar Slytherin?**

_He's one of the founders of Hogwarts, Slytherin house is named for him. He was a formidable wizard and parselmouth. He had some political views that the other founders didn't agree with, namely that he thought that only pureblood wizards should be taught magic. He also built a hideaway deep within the castle, calling it his Chamber of Secrets, and had a pet basilisk who is supposedly still waiting within the chamber for Salazar's return._

**You are surprisingly well-informed for only a second-year.**

Harry laughed. He could tell that Tom didn't quite know what to think of him, which was what Harry had intended. He sat pen back to paper and replied, _Mayhap so, Tom. I don't like not knowing something, so I make sure to research it. I'd always wondered about Slytherin, so I researched him. Why did you want to know?_

**Merely curious.**

_I don't believe that for a second,_ Harry thought, but wrote, _That's okay. Hey, I need to go. I'll talk again soon, yeah?_

**I am looking forward to it.**

Harry closed the diary and sat back, thinking. _Obviously, this is more than just a diary… But, then again, I knew that already. Iffen this really _is _a younger version of Voldemort, then he probably still has the same goals as the real Voldemort. I can tell already that I'm going to need to be really careful when I talk with him. I'm glad I didn't tell him my real name… This is going to be hard enough without who I am getting in the way._ Harry put the diary away and settled into his remaining homework, letting his mind work on the diary without interference. Harry managed to complete all the homework he had remaining before bedtime that night, which was a good thing, as Little Bird would be arriving the next day, and would be staying with the Brewers until about two weeks after Harry returned to Hogwarts.

The next day, Little Bird arrived shortly after breakfast. Knowing that Harry had to return to school the next day, she spent most of the day with him.

"How'd that dream-catcher work for you?" Little Bird asked while helping him finish up the breakfast dishes. True to her name, she was slight of stature, only three inches or so taller than Harry. She had the coppery skin of a Native American, and it was impossible to say with any certainty just what color her hair had been – it was now snowy white, though still as thick, straight, and long as it had been when she was young.

Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure… I only tried it once. The dream it gave me was… really weird."

"How so?" Little Bird asked.

Over the course of the next half-hour, Harry explained about the dream, and answered his grandma's questions. When he was done, they were sitting at the kitchen table, playing gin and drinking hot chocolate. "So… What do ya think?"

Little Bird drew a card, placed it in her hand, and discarded an eight of clubs before answering. "Well… With the information y'all told me, I should think it's clear."

"How?" Harry picked up the discarded eight of clubs and placed it with the eights of diamonds and hearts in his hand before discarding a three of spades.

"Well… You said that the bathroom which ya started out in was the same one y'all had used with the clock-thing, yeah?" Little Bird drew again and reshuffled her hand. She deliberated for a moment, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah."

"Seems to me that iffen y'all dreamt that, then the entrance to the hidden room would be in that bath. You prob'ly noticed somethin' when y'all were in there that'd make y'all think so. Not noticed it in your wakin' mind, but saw some small detail that your sleepin' mind picked up on." She finally discarded a two of hearts.

Harry snatched it up and sandwiched it between his ace and three of hearts, discarding a card he didn't need. "Gin."

Little Bird glared at him and tallied the points in her hand. "Brat."

"You love me anyway."

She nodded, then collected the cards to deal again. "Score's at ninety-three to me, and ninety-one to you. Close game."

"Yeah. Iffen the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets really _is_ in that bathroom, though, how would I open it? I know that iffen I could get it open, all I'd need ta do would be take a rooster down with me."

"A rooster?"

"Yeah, its crowin' would kill the basilisk."

"What about a recordin'?" She finished dealing.

"Dunno… Mayhap so… Wouldn't hurt ta ask, yeah?" Harry drew a jack of diamonds and placed it with his nine and ten of the same suit. He already had a set of threes and another of fives. He discarded the odd ace of clubs facedown. "Gin."

Little Bird sighed and melodramatically hit her head on the table. "Fifty-plus points. You won this one. Ya know, I wish I'd never taught y'all how ta play."

Harry snickered. "Come on, Grandma, you know you'd rather play with me. Mom don't like cards, an' Dad an' Dave can only play poker."

While Harry gathered the cards to deal the first hand of a new game, Little Bird thought over what Harry had told her. "You said that this Salazar-guy could talk ta snakes, yeah?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Its called parseltongue – it's s'posed ta be really rare."

"Makes sense, then, the giant snake… Tell me, Harry, in magic, does a secret passageway hafta be hidden by somethin' mechanical?"

Harry finished dealing and picked up his cards, "Nope. The gargoyle that hides the staircase ta the headmaster's office is password-protected. So's the entrance ta Gryffindor tower."

"An' iffen this Salazar-guy could speak a language that no one else could –"

Harry grinned. "Then the entrance would be protected by a parseltongue password!" His face suddenly fell, "But… There's still the question of what it'd be."

Little Bird shrugged, "No idea, but remember the KISS method, hon."

"Keep It Simple, Stupid." Harry sighed and arranged his cards. "At least I've got somewhere ta _start_."

Little Bird nodded sagely, drew a card, placed it in her hand, and discarded a nine of clubs. "That's more than most folks get," she grinned. "Gin."

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**A/N2:** Thanks again to all my readers, and especially to my beta, Aurilia. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** One more chapter after this one, and then it'll be on to the next story - 'Of Marbles Lost and Found'.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Some Answers**

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry cornered Hermione and told her of the messenger-parchments he'd read about. Their entire group ended up with a set a couple of weeks later. Hermione had bound the sheets into a small book, which oddly resembled a diary or sketchbook, and made several extras, stating that they might want to bring in others at some other time. She also made sure that there was an extra single-parchment paired to some of Harry's blank pages, so that he could write to his family.

On the third Saturday after the end of Christmas hols, Harry finally found the time to venture alone into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Luckily, said ghost wasn't there. From what Harry had heard of the ghost, he didn't want to meet her… ever. Keeping in mind his discussion with Little Bird, as well as the details from his rather vivid dream, Harry inspected the sink in which the snake had been sleeping in his dream.

Etched into the side of the copper tap was a small snake. _Guess that means Grandma was right…_Harry thought. _Well… KISS. _He took a breath, allowed his imagination to picture his snake friend, Eyebright, and said, "Open."

He stumbled back as the sink sunk out of sight, revealing a large pipe leading down into nothingness. "For the love of Gaia… Grandma really _was_ right…" He peered into the darkness of the pipe.

"What are you doing here!?" A shrill voice shouted near his ear. Harry jumped and whirled around, nearly falling into the pipe.

A ghost of a teenaged girl with glasses and a Hogwarts uniform was floating not far from his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was just looking for somethin'."

"You're a _boy_. You shouldn't be in a _girls' _loo!"

"You're Myrtle, aren't you?" Harry had a sudden idea.

The girl crossed her arms over her translucent chest, "Why? Come to poke fun at poor, miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle?"

Harry held his hands up, "No, no. Not at all. I just heard that you haunted the plumbing and was hopin' I could find you. I wanted ta know iffen y'all could help me?"

The outrage faded from Myrtle's face, replaced by a level of skepticism. "How could I possibly help you?"

"Well… it's like this, ya see…" Harry then gave a simplified explanation of how he'd found out that Slytherin's basilisk and chamber were through the pipe which still sat exposed where the sink once stood. Halfway through his explanation, he realized that this was likely the girl who had died that Riddle had mentioned. "Iffen you wouldn't mind, Myrtle, could ya tell me how ya died?"

For the first time, Myrtle smiled. "Oooh, it was _dreadful_," she said with relish. "It happened right in there. I died in that stall… I remember it _so_ well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny, in a different language. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then –" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, "I _died_."

"How?" asked Harry.

"I don't know…" Myrtle said in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She leveled a dreamy gaze on Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, was she ever sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses!"

"That sounds a lot like a basilisk," Harry said. "The eyes, I mean. Ya see, I'm tryin' ta figure out iffen this _really_ is where Salazar's secret chamber is. Iffen so, then I was gonna try ta see iffen maybe the teachers could get rid of the basilisk. It really shouldn't be in a school… What if it got out again?"

Myrtle looked thoughtful. "So you plan to kill the thing that killed me?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "That's the idea."

"How can _I_ help?"

Harry gestured to the pipe. "Well, for starters, you could follow this pipe for me and tell me where it goes. I'd go, myself, but it looks like it goes for quite a ways, an' I don't know how I'd get out again iffen I _did_ go down it."

Myrtle smiled brightly at Harry and dove down the pipe. Harry took a seat to wait for her return. He pulled out a pocketbook mystery he was in the middle of to read while he waited.

When Myrtle finally reappeared, about an hour later, she was excited and began chattering a mile a minute. "I followed the pipe like you said to, and found this large stone tunnel filled with skeletons and huge snake skins. At the end of the tunnel was a solid wall carved with snakes that had emeralds for eyes. I went through the wall and found this _enormous _room that had snake-shaped pillars and a great big statue of a wizard on the far wall. I explored around some, that's what took me so long, and found that there's another little room hidden in the statue's head. A bright green snake – it has to be longer than the Hogwarts' Express – was curled up inside, sleeping. I came straight back."

Harry smiled brightly, "Thanks, Myrtle! You did really well. That was just what I needed ta know."

Myrtle beamed at the praise and swooped down and kissed Harry on the cheek before blushing a bright silver and disappearing into a nearby toilet. Harry shook off the chill and gooseflesh that surfaced, wiped his cheek with a grimace and had to try three times to close entrance to the Chamber.

On his way to find Professor Snape, he was approached by Dumbledore. "A word, Harry, if you please?"

"Sure." Harry was only mildly irritated at being interrupted in his quest for the day. "Whacha need, sir?" he asked once the two of them were in the headmaster's office.

"I recently received a notice from the Ministry of Magic regarding the start of an investigation into the actions of our current Defense professor. I was curious as to whether you knew anything about that?"

Several things suddenly became clear to Harry; Lockhart's edginess in class, Hermione's suddenly cool and unexplained attitude towards the professor, and that the headmaster thought that _he_ was responsible. _Well… mayhap I am, but not directly._ He started laughing. "Good for Hermione, sir."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir. Though I don't really like Professor Pfauhahn, I've been busy with other things lately."

"And just how goes your investigation?" the headmaster asked with a knowing smile.

"Well, I think. Oh, I s'pose I should let ya know… The entrance to Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' bathroom that Myrtle haunts, and according to Myrtle, the basilisk is still inside it."

Apparently, _that_ wasn't what Dumbledore had been expecting. Harry was gifted with a very rare start of surprise from the Hogwarts headmaster. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "I _said_ that –"

"I heard what was said, thank you, Harry. How do you know this?"

Harry shrugged, "Same way I know a lot of stuff, sir. I researched it."

"People have been searching for the entrance to Slytherin's Chamber for hundreds of years…"

"Guess none of them were lookin' in the right places, huh?" Harry grinned.

"Apparently not," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Someday, we must certainly compare our sources of information."

"I look forward to it, sir." Dumbledore and Harry then turned their conversation to other matters, such as how Harry was doing in his classes and his continuing occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. When the headmaster finally dismissed Harry, Harry paused for a moment near the door. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was wondering just why none of the DADA profs last for more than a year? I mean, Percy said how he's had a different prof every year, and how in his first year, there were _three_ professors…?"

Albus smiled sadly at Harry. "The position was cursed shortly after my appointment to the headmaster position."

"Oh… In that case, why not just name the class something else?"

"An intriguing question, Harry. I shall have that looked into…"

"Lemme know how it goes, sir," Harry said, ducking out of the office and hurrying towards the Great Hall for lunch.

During the meal, he filled in his friends on what happened that morning and asked Hermione about her research regarding Lockhart. The question lead to a rant from the girl about how the teacher was a complete and utter fraud – almost as though Harry hadn't pointed out that fact some months earlier – and how he shouldn't be teaching a class he knew nothing about. When she was winding up her speech, Oliver Wood spotted Harry on his way out of the hall and hurried over.

"Hey, Brewer. McGonagall have a chance to talk to you yet?"

Harry shook his head, "No, what about?"

"The Board of Governors met last week and approved an addendum to the Hogwarts Charter regarding quidditch regulations. Basically, what it boils down to is that all school quidditch games are to be performed on school-supplied brooms."

Harry sighed, "That's not quite what I had in mind, but it'll have ta do. I'd guess that the brooms the Slytherins are usin' qualify as 'school-supplied?'" Oliver nodded grimly. "Damnit. Are they plannin' on providin' funds ta buy new brooms for the rest of the teams?"

"No." Wood looked bleak, no doubt trying to picture playing the Slytherins on the rickety old brooms that the first-years learned on.

Glaring over at the Slytherin table, at a particular smarmy blonde git, Harry growled, "Du schleimige kleine wurmzerfressene Nachgeburt einer – "

"Mr. Brewer, I believe I warned you last year about your language." Professor McGonagall said from just behind Harry's right shoulder. "However, I agree with your sentiment. Wood, gather the rest of the team and meet me in my office in an hour. Come, Mr. Brewer. I believe we have some things to discuss." Harry stood and cast a pleading glance towards his friends. Their returned expressions clearly stated, 'Sorry, mate. You're on your own.'

Once in McGonagall's office, Harry sighed. "Sorry 'bout that, ma'am. I just thought we had a way around what Malfoy had done."

"As did I, Mr. Brewer. However, though things may appear desolate right now, we are _not_ without options. Donations to the school can be used for many things, and I believe that an appropriately-worded donation would be just what we need in this instance."

"How's that?"

"Well, anonymous donations of funds are placed in the school's general account – they are used most often for things like repairs or other necessaries. A donation from a named person usually goes toward adding things like paintings or statues. There is a loophole in the charter, though, that might help us out here."

"Whacha mean?"

"The rules on donations are lengthy, but I did research the issue, and found that a graduate of Hogwarts can make donations of either goods or funds, provided that they are not employed by the school, nor have any immediate family attending the school at the time of the donation."

Harry brightened considerably. "Sirius!"

"Indeed."

"I'll need ta floo him. Can I do so here, or do I need ta go to Professor Dumbledore's office?"

"I don't have any international powder here," McGonagall replied.

"That's okay. I've got some in my trunk. Be right back." Harry leapt to his feet and rushed up to the tower, grabbed the jar of powder out of his trunk and ran back to McGonagall's office, ignoring the handful of students staring at him as he raced through the common room.

"Catch your breath, Harry," she chided as he made to throw the floo powder onto the flames.

Harry did so, and five minutes later was ensconced in the floo, waiting for his mom to send Sirius over to talk with him. "Hey, Harry. How's it going?"

"Not _too _horribly, Sirius, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor…" It took Harry about fifteen minutes to describe the situation with the quidditch brooms to his godfather.

When he was done, Sirius laughed, "No problem. I can have something ready in about… oh, six hours or so. Don't worry about it. Now, let me talk to McGonagall, okay?"

Harry nodded and turned the call over to the transfiguration professor. She was still talking when there was a knock on the office door. Harry answered it, and Oliver, Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and the twins filed in, all looking equally grim. Harry smiled reassuringly at each of them as they took seats around the room. A couple of minutes later, Minerva emerged from the call. "It's settled," she smiled at her quidditch team.

"Pardon, ma'am," Alicia said, "but _what's_ settled?"

McGonagall looked to Harry. "My godfather's going to buy new brooms for the quidditch teams and donate them to the school."

This comment was met with roaring applause. Wood interjected, "Do you know what kind?"

Harry shook his head, but the professor replied, "Not as yet, Wood. Mr. Black assured me that he would be by this evening with his donation. I will make sure to book the pitch for you for tomorrow afternoon, though."

Oliver grinned somewhat manically and the team returned to the Tower, pressing Harry for more information all afternoon.

That evening, after dinner, the quidditch team once again assembled in Professor McGonagall's office. Sirius was already there, sitting on a large trunk and grinning.

"Sirius," Harry greeted his godfather with a similar grin. "This is the quidditch team. Oliver Wood, our captain and keeper; Alicia Spinet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson, our chasers; and I think you already met our beaters, Fred and George Weasley."

"That I did, Harry."

"Team, this is my godfather, Sirius Black."

After a round of pleasantries, Sirius hopped off of the trunk and said, "To get down to business, I contacted an old friend who works in the broom industry. After what I heard about the Slytherin team getting the latest Nimbus model, I couldn't resist… Therefore, I present you with the following donation for the remainder of the school teams – twenty-one prototype Firebolts!"

Oliver actually fainted.

The excitement of the new brooms and Oliver's ongoing enthusiasm for all things quidditch managed to seize the majority of Harry's free time for the better part of the next month and a half. The brooms were well-received by all the teams, and the Slytherin team was often found sporting mutinous glares. In early March, the quidditch season picked up once again, and the first match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was won by an early lucky catch by the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory.

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**A/N2:** This is one of those chapters I feel rather insecure about, but my beta assures me that if I rewrite it yet again, she'll do something unspeakable to my closet. I _knew _I shouldn't've had a beta who knows where I live. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** And here's the last chapter for 'Curiouser and Curiouser'. I'll start posting 'Of Marbles' as soon as Aurilia gets done betaing the chapters.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Finishing Unfinished Business**

Finally, on the third Saturday in March, the twentieth, Harry found himself done with his homework, not involved in quidditch practice, not expected for an occlumency lesson, and not needed for music practice. Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak and put it on before heading out of the Tower and towards the dungeons in search of Professor Snape. He wasn't about to be waylaid again. He took off the cloak and stuffed it into a pocket just outside Snape's office door before knocking.

"Enter," came the terse reply.

"Professor?"

"Brewer." Snape acknowledged. "I was unaware we had a lesson scheduled for this afternoon."

"We don't," Harry agreed. "I was just wonderin' iffen mayhap you were busy?"

Snape gestured to the short pile of essays he was grading; a larger stack of those he'd already finished were off to the right of his desk. "Exceedingly so," he dryly replied.

"So I see," Harry's reply was rather sardonic. "Basilisk components are really useful in potions, I know, but are almost always too expensive to use, right?"

Snape nodded, one eyebrow arched slightly. "Correct. Your point?"

"So… Iffen I knew where a basilisk was, you might be interested in it, yeah?"

Snape sat his quill down and leveled a hard gaze at Harry. "Explain."

So Harry did just that. When he finished, the look on the professor's face was positively gleeful. "Meet me in that bathroom in two hours, Brewer. Bring a broom."

Harry nodded and headed back to the Tower. He spent the intervening time playing Exploding Snap with Dean and Neville. Ron was still working on his homework, and Seamus was getting some help with his charms homework from Hermione in the library. At the appropriate time, Harry made his excuses to his friends – saying that he needed to meet with Snape – and shouldered his broom before heading out through the portrait. "Wonder what he needs his broom for?" Dean muttered.

Neville shrugged, "Don't know. You know he's been taking some advanced lessons from Snape… Maybe they need a twig off it or something for a potion."

"You're late," Snape said from near the row of sinks when Harry entered the lav.

Harry checked his watch. "No, I ain't, sir. _You're_ early."

"Show me this entrance," Snape replied, ignoring Harry's comment.

Harry pointed out the sink with the snake etching on the faucet. "I'll open it, sir," Harry said. Snape's only response was a look that implied that Harry was an idiot for saying something so obvious. Harry told the sink to 'open' again, and again the sink sank out of sight, revealing the large pipe.

"I'll go down first, Brewer. When I have ascertained that the danger is minimal, I'll call for you to follow."

Harry nodded, and the professor entered the pipe, quickly sliding out of sight. Nearly ten minutes later a faint echoing voice called up that Harry should follow and warned him to keep his hands close in. Harry jumped into the pipe and rapidly slid downwards. He noticed, in the dim light, several other pipes opening off of the one he was in, though none of them were as big. Eventually, he emerged into the tunnel that Myrtle had described.

"The wall with the carving you said that the ghost told you about is this way," Snape said without preamble. Harry cast a quick lumos and followed the professor, grimacing at the crunching of innumerable skeletons of rats and mice under their feet.

When they rounded a bend in the tunnel, Harry stopped short at the sight of the wall before them. The carvings were incredibly detailed and life-like, and the emeralds in the snake's eyes gleamed in the light from the two wands. "It's beautiful," Harry said, and Snape narrowed his eyes at his student, even as the wall split down the middle, separating the two snakes, the halves sliding into the walls.

"What did you say?" Snape asked.

"Um… 'It's beautiful?'"

"It seems as though the locking mechanism is not geared towards a specific phrase, then," Snape replied. "Merely the _sound_ of parseltongue appears to be enough."

Harry followed Snape through the opening. "That doesn't make much sense, sir. Iffen that were so, then wouldn't the basilisk have been able to set itself free by now?"

"No, Brewer. A lone snake is unable to speak parseltongue on its own. It needs either another snake or a wizard who can speak the language to be present."

"Oh…" Harry replied. "Guess that explains why I don't seem to be able to speak it unless a snake's nearby, huh?"

"So it would seem…" Snape's voice trailed off as they got their first real look at Slytherin's Chamber.

"Myrtle said that the basilisk was sleeping in a room inside the statue's head," Harry stated, a little awestruck at the dark beauty of the chamber.

Snape seemed to shake himself back to reality. He withdrew a cage from his pocket and enlarged it. Harry saw that there was a rooster sleeping inside it. "When I signal, open the statue. I presume it will be geared the same way that the previous passwords were."

Harry nodded. Snape woke the rooster, who began clucking indignantly. Snape nodded towards Harry, who looked up at the massive statue of Salazar. "Open up," he said.

"That wasn't parseltongue, Brewer."

Harry shifted his focus from the statue's face to a nearby serpentine pillar. "Open up," he repeated, and this time he was rewarded with the sound of stone grinding on stone. The statue's mouth was opening.

"Master?" the voice of the snake from his dream drifted out of the statue.

Ignoring the gooseflesh prickling his arms, Harry called out, "Yes, Ruby. Close your eyes and come down here."

"At once, Master." Immediately, a vividly green snake, nearly large enough to compete with the pillars in the chamber for sheer size, slithered out of the statue's mouth.

"Was that wise, Brewer?" Snape asked, an edgy tone to his voice.

"And I s'pose y'all'd rather we hafta fly up there to retrieve it?"

"Point taken."

"Master, who is with you?" the basilisk asked.

"A friend," Harry replied. "Come closer, Ruby." The snake slithered heavily across the water-covered stone floor of the chamber. "That's good, Ruby. Stay there. I'm sorry about this…"

Harry jerked his head in Snape's direction. Snape shot a quick spell at the rooster, who responded with an incensed crow. The basilisk shuddered once before going completely still. "What did you say to it, Brewer?" Snape asked, re-shrinking the cage containing the rooster and placing it back in his pocket.

Harry shrugged, "Not much. Her name was Ruby, did you know that?"

Snape muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'Merlin save me from overly-sentimental Gryffindors,' before assessing the basilisk corpse.

"She certainly was beautiful," Harry commented, earning another slightly derisive glare from the potions master. "How are we going to get her back upstairs?"

"I prepared a room off of the potions laboratory," was Snape's reply.

"Oh, portkey, then?"

Snape nodded and stuck a small metal pin into the thick skin of the basilisk's head. "Portus," he stated, aiming his wand at the pin. The snake disappeared from sight. "And now, Brewer, if you would close the doors behind us, we shall return." Harry followed the man out of the Chamber, closing first the wall behind them, and, once they'd flown back to the bathroom, the sink-guarded entrance to the chamber.

Unsurprisingly, the final few potions lessons before the Easter holiday centered on the uses of basilisk parts in a seemingly endless list of potions.

The last night before spring break, while everyone was eating dinner, the doors to the Great Hall flew open with a dramatic _bang._ Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as a line of four aurors – led by the auror who had been present when Wormtail had been revealed – trooped in. Shacklebolt's voice easily carried in the nearly-silent hall. "Gilderoy Lockhart, you are being placed under arrest for one-hundred-fifty-seven counts of unauthorized use of Obliviation-class mind-altering charms on non-consenting individuals throughout England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland. You will surrender your wand."

Lockhart, resplendent in nauseatingly teal robes, stood and began spluttering incoherent protestations of innocence. Hermione stood and shouted back at him, "Oh, shush it, you great fraud! Just go with them before I hex you myself!"

As the aurors escorted Lockhart from the Great Hall, there was thunderous applause. Gryffindor was applauding Hermione, while Ravenclaw and Slytherin were applauding the removal of an incompetent teacher from the school. Harry doubted that even the Hufflepuffs knew why they clapped, other than they didn't want to be left out. Just before Lockhart was pulled, still protesting his innocence, from the hall, Harry met his eyes and gave a feral little smirk. Lockhart paled and quieted somewhat, allowing the aurors to finish removing him from the hall.

When the applause had died down somewhat, Harry overheard one of the older students say that the charge Lockhart had been arrested for was normally punishable by six months in Azkaban _per victim_. Harry quickly calculated the total in his head and his smile grew. _Nearly eighty years in prison, Pfauhahn. Hope you think it was worth it._

When dinner was done, Dumbledore stood and announced that he would be temporarily taking over the newly-vacant position until such time that he could locate a suitable replacement. Hermione was ecstatic at the news, and spent much of the evening lauding all the things she had read about that the headmaster had done in his long life that they might get to learn about in more detail in class.

Dumbledore was only needed to cover the class for a single week, much to Hermione's disappointment. Somehow, he had managed to talk Remus into taking the position. So, halfway into April, Remus and Sirius moved to Hogwarts. This didn't bother Harry in the slightest, he now had that much more free time wherein he wasn't writing letters to the two. The three of them made a point to have lunch together at least once a week. Often, one or more of Harry's friends would join them. The twins, predictably, were frequent visitors. During one of his visits alone, Harry asked for his godfather's help deciding in which classes to sign up for the next term. Though Sirius was adamant that Divination and Muggle Studies were easier grades, Remus said that Harry would likely have more fun in Arithmancy, Runes, and Spell Creation – an independent-study which would need a faculty overseer, as well as approval from Harry's head-of-house and the headmaster. Neither Sirius nor Remus advised he take Care of Magical Creatures, though that had more to do with their healthy respect for Aurilia's temper than anything else – they could both picture her reaction if Harry brought home something like a fire-salamander or chizpurfle or clabbert; neither of them needed divination to tell Harry that taking the class would be a bad idea. Remus had also agreed to continue in Lockhart's footsteps in overseeing the dueling club – and he confided in Harry during their first lunch together that the club was likely 'the only good idea that my predecessor ever had.' It goes without saying that Harry started going to the meetings that didn't coincide with quidditch practice.

The remainder of the year seemed to pass in a haze of quidditch. With the new brooms, quidditch suddenly became a challenge to see what team had the better players, the better strategy. When Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw by a mere ten points, it created a tie in the house team standings. They had to play each other once more to see who would be facing off with Slytherin – who had secured first place with their superior brooms before winter interrupted the season – for the cup. In the second match, Gryffindor took to the field with a will, and won with a decisive fifty points.

The final match of the season was a week before the end of term. Remus and Sirius were sitting in the stands, and watched as Harry very nearly flew circles around all the other players; unfortunately, the Slytherin seeker was almost as good as Harry was. Both teams were equally matched, and for nearly an hour, no one scored. As the game dragged on, the players began getting more and more desperate. Hooch was busy calling foul after foul for both sides. As the game was nearing the four-hour mark, there was a sudden surge of interest from the crowd. The seekers, who had been lazily avoiding bludgers whilst searching for the snitch, had snapped into action. Sirius peered in the direction his godson was flying and could barely see a brief glint of gold. He and Remus jumped to their feet and began cheering Harry on.

Neck-and-neck, the two seekers dove. When they started their dive, they had been about two hundred feet above the ground. Unable to tear their gaze from the seekers, the crowd watched as they hurdled towards the grassy pitch. Closer observers than Remus and Sirius could see that Harry was focusing totally on the snitch, whereas Malfoy was growing more and more alarmed. Malfoy pulled up only five feet from the ground, while Harry deftly leveled his decent into a tight corkscrew spiral and reached out, plucking the snitch from the air, only two feet above the grass.

Even Sirius could see the Slytherin seeker's anger and disappointment as Hooch blew her whistle, signaling the end of the game, 150 points to zero. Later, the only people who could say for sure what happened next were the seekers themselves. Suddenly, both seekers were grappling on the grass of the pitch, faint shouts barely heard, let alone understandable, coming from the two.

Before Hooch could stop the fight, the Weasley twins were drawn into the fight, shortly followed by the rest of both teams.

"I'll see what's going on, mi amorium (1)," Remus said, heading for the stairs.

"noli nimium stomachari (2), Remus."

"I don't plan to, Sirius."

When Remus arrived on the pitch, several other teachers had managed to separate the two teams. Harry had a black eye and Malfoy was sporting a broken nose. Dumbledore was speaking. "…the two who seemed to have started this fight. Come along, Mr. Brewer, Mr. Malfoy."

Following the two students, who in turn were following the headmaster, Remus sent a quick message to Sirius via the Marauder's Mirror he kept with himself. "I'll be back to our rooms when I find out what happened, Padfoot. I've a feeling that parents are going to be brought in on this one."

"Okay, see you later."

When Albus led them into his office, the two boys were stonily silent. "I must say I am most disappointed in this unsportsmanlike behavior from the two of you. Would either of you care to explain just how it was you came to blows over a mere _game_?"

"It wasn't the game, sir," Harry said, staring at the floor.

"If it wasn't the game, then what caused your reactions, Mr. Brewer?"

Harry didn't reply. Neither did Draco. Remus met Albus' gaze and said, "Perhaps, sir, I should take Mr. Malfoy aside to get his story while you speak with Mr. Brewer?"

Harry shot Remus a hurt look. Remus shook his head almost imperceptibly. The entire school knew that Remus had stayed with Harry's family for over a year, and this was not the time to be showing any sort of favoritism. "Go with Professor Lupin, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sullenly got to his feet and followed Remus to a classroom just down the hall from the headmaster's office. Remus leaned on the teacher's desk. "Care to say what happened?"

Draco shrugged and looked around the room.

"This is Professor Vector's classroom, if you're wondering."

"Brewer started it." Draco said suddenly.

"What did he say?"

Draco shrugged again.

Remus repressed a sigh. This was going to take a while.

Back in the headmaster's office, Harry was glaring at his scuffed knuckles.

"I doubt that glowering at yourself is going to solve the situation anytime soon, Harry."

"I know, sir."

"What happened?"

"He was insulting the team, said that the only reason we won was because we had the Firebolts."

"I fail to see how such a comment would come to blows."

"I didn't hit him for that, sir. When he said that, I replied that mayhap it wasn't 'cause of the brooms, but his team's lack of skill."

"And?"

"And…" Harry sighed. "He started callin' my friends names."

"I still fail to see how this would lead to blows, Harry. How does that muggle phrase go? 'Sticks and stones…?'"

Harry nodded despondently before looking up. "I'm sorry, sir. I lost my temper."

"Understood. I will be contacting your parents, as well as Mr. Malfoy's parents. I believe a conference concerning the growing animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy before assigning any sort of punishment would be best. For now, I want you to go to Madam Pomfrey and get patched up. I expect you back here in one hour."

"Yes, sir." Harry stood up and exited the office. Pomfrey had his bruises and scrapes tended in a couple of minutes, muttering under her breath about the idiocy of fighting the entire time. Harry headed towards Gryffindor Tower to change out of his quidditch robes and take a quick shower when the mediwitch was done with her subliminal berating.

As he headed back through the common room, which had filled with celebrating Gryffindors, Ron asked him, "So, what happened?"

"Dumbledore is calling my and Malfoy's parents. I have to go back to his office. He said that we were all gonna talk before any sort of punishment was decided. What about the rest of the team?"

"Twenty points each for fighting, and three night's detention with Filch. Think Snape gave the Slytherins the same."

Harry nodded and stepped towards the portrait hole. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah, Ron?"

"Good luck."

"Thanks." Harry stepped into the quiet corridor and checked his watch. He swore under his breath and set out at a run. He only had five minutes to get back to the headmaster's office. He arrived just in time. His mom was sitting in a chair next to the one in which Lucius Malfoy sat, across the desk from Dumbledore. Draco was sitting on Lucius' other side. Harry took the remaining empty chair next to Aurilia.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "After having spoken to both Harry and Draco about the incident on the pitch earlier today, and having discussed the matter with Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Brewer, I have decided to put the both of you on probation for the duration of not only the remainder of this year, but the entirety of your third year. This means, gentlemen," Albus leveled his blue eyes at first Draco, and then Harry, "that even _one_ more incident like the one I saw today will lead to your suspension from quidditch for the remainder of your Hogwarts' careers." Harry paled and Draco swallowed audibly. "I suggest, gentlemen, that if you are unable to get along peaceably, that you ignore one another for the duration. If, at the end of your third year, there have been no further problems between the two of you, I will consider lifting the probation. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, and Draco echoed the statement.

"Now, before I release you, I believe you should apologize to one another."

The boys stood, and knowing there was no way out of it, faced each other, mumbled "I'm sorry," and stared at the floor.

After several minutes of silence, Harry looked up, meaning to see if he could use his empathy to read his mom and get some clue as to how angry she was. Instead, he met Lucius' eyes.

He was immediately bombarded by a sense of utter desolation and longing, distress and a long-simmered anger. Confused, Harry opened his empathy a little wider and tried to use the legilimency skill Snape was adamant that he possessed. The images he saw made little sense. There were several pictures of a young Lucius sitting with a boy and girl his age, both with red hair – the boy's hair somewhat brighter than the girl's. There was also a viciously grinning girl with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes who aimed her wand at him. Lucius seemed to sense something and suddenly, all Harry saw were passages of books, all of which contained the word 'help.'

The connection broke when Albus spoke again, though Harry missed what was said. His mom simply said, "We will talk about this at home, Harry," before flooing back to Iowa with the headmaster's assistance.

_She didn't call me 'luz.' She must be angrier than I would've guessed._ Dumbledore dismissed Draco and Harry, who retreated to their respective dormitories. Harry explained to his friends about his punishment, and all of them promised to help him ignore the Slytherin for as long as he had to. Harry ducked out of the celebratory party early, and went to bed, though sleep was long in coming.

The last week of the year flew past. Harry was so busy studying for the end of year exams that he managed to nearly forget about what he had seen in Lucius' mind. It wasn't until the train ride back to platform nine and three quarters, when Ron mentioned how nice it had been to go the whole ride without an interruption from Malfoy that Harry remembered it; Ron's comment had been that it was the 'icing on the cake' after having won the house cup for the second year running.

Bidding his friends a good summer, Harry embraced the inevitable and strode up to his mom. She _still _looked upset.

* * *

**A/N2:** I hope everyone is enjoying my insanity. Thanks to all my readers, and thanks to everyone who takes the time to review, and a great big 'I-couldn't-have-done-this-without-you' thanks to my beta, Aurilia. Translation of the Latin is as follows:

1. _mi amorium - _my love  
2. _noli nimium stomachari_ - Don't get too angry


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